


30 Days of Fitzsimmons- A NaNo Attempt

by Fitzsimmonshield (fitzsimmonsshield)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Agents of SHIELD, F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, alternative universe, fitzsimmons nanowrimo, lots of ficlets, nanowrimo fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:26:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 51,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5125706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitzsimmonsshield/pseuds/Fitzsimmonshield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strapped for an idea for NaNoWriMo, I present to you instead lots of one-shots and ficlets on Fitzsimmons. Some of them will be bad, probably very bad, but I need you to cheer me on as I work towards reaching my goal of 50,000 words by Nov. 30! Check out NaNoWriMo.org to learn more about this writing 'competition.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm hoping to get out one ficlet a day, to help me towards my goal of 50,000 words. But, I know that's not entirely plausible, coupled with my busy schedule. I will be dating this on the regular, each chapter will likely be a new story, unless otherwise noted.
> 
> Please be nice as I am just charging through writing, exploring different AU's and having fun. If you have any requests, please send them in as I may need more writing material.
> 
> Thank you, and if you have any questions, let me know!

Prompt 1: Fitz with a hangover, while Jemma feels fine.

The shutters were strewn tightly. Fitz hadn’t remembered closing them, but he usually kept them drawn for the most part. Unless he was testing a solar device, or some other gadget that required the natural flush of light, his apartment remained a cave of wonders, complete with darkness. He was glad they were shut, because if he had opened his eyes to an overwhelming amount of light, he didn’t think he would survive.

Fitz shifted in his bed, the blankets poured on top of him now causing him to stop. The constriction of the jeans he failed to take off the night before, weighed him down in the sheets. Not wanting to move or not wanting to die under the crushing heat, Fitz had to come to a decision. He wormed his hands to the waistband of his jeans, and after unzipping them; he slid them down and left them crumpled at the bottom of his bed. He would have to find them later. 

Nearby, his phone buzzed, thankfully on vibrate. It was still loud, startling noise. Slowly, he snaked his hand out of the bed and reached out to the nightstand next to the pillow. The brightly lit screen caused Fitz to recoil, shutting his eyes, faster than he could have decided.

"Bloody hell," he croaked.

After adjusting the brightness settings, he took a peek at the text message that had popped up.

"Good morning, Fitz! How are you feeling today?"

It was from Jemma, his neighbor. They, and a couple of mutual friends, had went out to a bar last night, hence why Fitz was suffering from the painful consequences of a hangover. And, one of the worst he ever had.

"Like death," Fitz texted back. He plopped the phone back down and settled on readjusting the sheets in hopes some cooler air would help break his sweat.

The phone buzzed not a second later.

"I'll be right there," Jemma responded.

For so long Fitz had assumed the worst about Jemma, that she was a stuck-up brat. This was, of course, before he had actually spoken to her. Then one night, months ago, he heard a loud scream from her apartment, and a crashing noise that woke up most of the floor. Fitz, who was up late working on yet another gadget, sprung up from his work space. He grabbed a pair of pants, and without thinking, ran into the hallway and knocked on the door to her apartment.

"Who-who is it?" A scared, shaken voice of the inhabitant had rang out.   
Fitz stammered to find the right words; he hadn't quite thought this out thoroughly.

 

"It's your next door neighbor, I heard you scream," he finally said.

A few moments later, he heard the familiar clink and shifting of bolts that unlocked the apartment's door.  
Jemma stood before him, in a bathrobe, hair a mess, with a baseball bat clutched in one hand.

"Are... are you all right?" Fitz asked. She looked terrified, her eyes red, and underneath were the remnants of tears, swept to the side. 

"Someone tried to break into my apartment form outside," she responded.

Fitz was thankful that someone had only tried. Despite feeling up until this moment, contempt for this woman, he was glad she was safe.

"Did you whack him with the bat?" Fitz tried to diffuse the tense moment with humor, it was what he considered his redeeming quality.

The fear on Jemma's face broke, and she smiled, laughed even. Fitz was successful. Jemma invited him in and showed him the bedroom window, the would-be intrude had successfully forced open. The intruder had broken the latch that kept the window secure. In lifting the window, a tiny potted plot on the ledge had slipped off the windowsill and crashed to the floor, waking and alerting the sleeping Jemma. Fitz examined it, and after Jemma refused to call the cops, Fitz receded back to his apartment, brought back some tools, and not only fixed the window, but heightened the security tenfold in her apartment. It was nearly three in the morning when he finished, and after Fitz and Jemma sat at her kitchen table chatting over tea. She had been too scared to go back to sleep, and Fitz had been too enamored by her personality. Plus, she was British, which was a taste of back home for this lonely Scotsman. 

Jemma wasn’t initially what Fitz had constructed in his mind. She was endearing, charming, and above all intelligent. She worked as a biochemist. Her bedroom had been a cluttered mess; unlike the prim and proper room Fitz would have imagined it to be. She cracked jokes with Doctor Who references and on her fridge hung Harry Potter magnets. She missed England, having not met one other person from the homeland, but didn’t discount how enjoyable it was to live in California.

From there, their friendship blossomed. A few weeks later, Fitz’ job announced they would be relocating, but not wanting to move to the middle of nowhere- USA- Jemma helped procure him a job at her company. It was there that they worked in the lab together and would often get drinks after work with some other friends in different departments. 

Coming back to it, they had just started off the night getting drinks, but things took a wild turn. 

A few minutes later after Jemma had texted him that she was coming over, Fitz heard the key turn in the front of his apartment. Fitz had given her an extra key and Jemma had given hers in return. Fitz didn’t mind watering Jemma’s plants when she went back to visit her mum and dad. And Fitz certainly didn’t mind Jemma coming over whenever she wanted, to bring over something she cooked or baked, just because she felt like it. On top of excelling in two difficult science concentrations, Jemma just did it all and made it all look so easy. Which, as Fitz had come to know her was so far from the truth. She was also clumsy, over-spoke when nervous, had the most atrocious excuse for handwriting, and, while he would never say this to her face, she wasn’t the best at cleaning.

“Fitz?” her voice echoed from the front of the apartment. Fitz groaned in response. He could hear her light pattering of footsteps head across his living room, into the small hallway, and into his bedroom. 

She set a tray of something atop the papers sprawled on his desk, and because the room was too dark, she clicked on the desk lamp.

Fitz groaned, again. He shifted under the covers, cowering from the light.

“Oh, it is not that bad you big baby,” Jemma huffed. She was using a quiet voice, so Fitz knew this was all in jest. 

Fitz unrolled the covers down to the bridge of his nose. He squinted his eyes to look at Jemma hovering over him. She looked refreshed, like she had just come back from a weekend retreat in the mountains or something. Fitz was immediately envious of her bright and perky demeanor, while he suffered under a crushing headache and aversion to light and movement.

Jemma turned back to her tray and picked up a steaming hot cup of coffee. She knew regular old tea wouldn’t cut it, this was a cause for coffee.

“Sit up,” she instructed. 

Groaning, yet again, Fitz did one better by sliding his legs around, so his feet met the floor. The coolness of the room felt really good on his newly exposed skin. It was then that he remembered he had taken his pants off and was now sitting in front of Jemma in just his boxers. Redness boiled up under the skin of his cheeks. How embarrassing, he thought as Jemma placed the warm cup in his hands.

She sat down on the bed next to him, her light weight led to a small dip in the mattress. She sat with him in the mostly dark room for several moments, waiting for Fitz to take a sip of the beverage. 

The aroma of the coffee made Fitz feel like a whole new person. It washed away some of the nausea that had dredged up when he shifted out of the bed. And the first sip, the soothing taste of hazelnut, made just the way – and the only way – he liked coffee, was a shot of morphine to his hung over symptoms.

But above all else, the thing that helped rub out the undulating pain was the mere presence of Jemma alone. She always lightened his mood.

“So, we have to talk about last night,” Jemma cut through the silence Fitz had been savoring.

Those words were scary in any context. And the fact that Fitz could barely remember anything from last night was his first clue that something either embarrassing or horrifying had happened on his part. Whatever he did, he was just crossing his mental fingers that it in no way harmed Jemma.

And yes, Fitz thought, he hoped he hadn’t confessed the crush he had on her. 

Fitz took a long sip from the coffee, in hopes to buy some more time. He let the piping hot caffeine simmer down in his mouth, and slowly swallowed, the heat sending shockwaves of soothing heat throughout his body. He smacked his lips, sighed, and then addressed the elephant in the room Jemma had brought up.

“What did I do?” Like a shamed dog Fitz had responded. 

“What do you remember last?” Jemma playing coy was considerably alarming for Fitz. Why couldn’t she just spit it out, and put him out of his misery. That was another thing she did that mildly aggravated him. But his contention for Jemma’s ability to draw out information was thrown out the door, once he realized how close in proximity he was to her. He was suddenly very aware of the softness of her sweatpants against his half-bare thigh. 

Cursing the new swarm of heat his body felt, and desperately wanted to react to, Fitz shrugged.

“I remember…,” Fitz tried to concentrate on his quite blank memory of last night to deter his body from taking over in other areas.

Now Fitz was playing the stalling game.

“I, uh, remember, getting to the bar,” he said after a long pause.

“Well, that is a great start,” Jemma enthusiastically responded. Fitz playfully elbowed her, to which she responded not as mischievous, but with a more spirited jab into the ribs.

“Alright, alright, no more messing around,” Fitz muttered. He freed up one of his hands from the coffee cup to rub the section of his ribcage Jemma had not been so kind to.

Jemma looked at him, her sunny deposition and patient eagerness beckoned him on.

“I remember getting to the bar, and ordering a beer. We sat at a booth and waited for Daisy, Ward, Trip, and uh, Hunter, Bobbi, Mack, Lincoln…,” Fitz was confused as to why it was so difficult for him to recall this. This was before he had become completely sloshed. 

“So they all arrive by the time I have had my third pint, and then…” Fitz trailed off.

“Hunter ordered a round of shots,” Jemma filled in.

“Oh, did he?” Fitz turned to look up at her. He was slightly hunched over his coffee now, the steam giving his clammy from sweat skin a much-needed facial. Fitz knew the start of taking shots was never a good idea for him; he just never reacted from hard liquor positively. 

Jemma smiled at him politely. Her hands were folded in her lap. Her oversized sweater hung half-zipped off her chest. In fact, on closer inspection, that was actually Fitz’ sweater. 

“You know, for as intelligent as you are you don’t seem to grasp the concept of ‘liquor before beer, and you’re in the clear…’” Jemma instructed.

“And ‘beer before liquor, never been sicker,’” Fitz finished for her.

They have had this conversation before. Jemma was very simple with her drinks, if it wasn’t wine or just beer, then she would have vodka sodas. Fitz could hear her lecturing voice about how the sugars in most mixed drinks were the main cause of hangovers from hell.

“Which is why I don’t feel like death,” Jemma added, as if she read his thoughts about what kind of drinks she has.

“So, what did I do this time?” Fitz said, placing the half drunk cup of coffee on the floor next to his feet. He placed his head in his hands, ready to accept his shame and embarrassment.

“Well, you and Hunter had a few more shots after the group round, you both then jumped up on the bar and began singing God Save the Queen, when Coulson and May walked in the bar,” Jemma stopped there.

“Oh no, Coulson, and May?” the fright was very real in Fitz’ voice. They were, after all, their bosses.

“Coulson actually quite enjoyed your rendition, and even bought you a round of drinks. As for May, well, she kind of just rolled her eyes and stayed far away form the rowdiest of the bunch for most of the night, but don’t worry, you didn’t do anything else embarrassing in the sense to loose your job over. Coulson got quite drunk too,” Jemma was quick to lighten Fitz’ foreboding sense of fear. He sighed in relief.

Fitz could tell this wasn’t the end to the night either, singing God Save the Queen on top of the bar wasn’t the worst thing he could have done.

“Daisy has a video of you and Hunter singing on the bar, by the way,” Jemma chimed in.

“Great,” Fitz drawled out. He knew Daisy well enough to know that the video was probably drawing up the hits on Facebook. Daisy was basking in the glory and would not let that down for ages to come.

Jemma shifted on his bed. She recoiled a leg underneath her, and twisted her body so she more directly faced Fitz. 

“That is… not all you did,” Jemma hesitated. The bad feeling Fitz had, swarmed over him again. Despite her leg no longer touching his, he was again reminded that he was in nothing but his boxer’s in front of Jemma. Fitz braced himself. Oh no, he thought to himself. Jemma looked down at her lap, she was suddenly playing with her fingers. She twisted her fingertips and bent them at her knuckles. She was nervous, and the nerves rubbed off on him. 

“We left the bar at around 2:30, you were very, very drunk, so I’m not if you meant to say something like this,” Jemma said.

Here she was, playing the stalling game again. Fitz’ head began to throb like a tireless ocean crashing against a stone wall. He was tense, and reached for the cup of coffee again to have some sort of distraction.

“I thought maybe walking home from the bar would do you some good, the fresh air maybe would help alleviate your hangover symptoms – that doesn’t seem to be quite the case – but, anyway, we reached the park, the one across from the museum, and we took a little break from walking. You looked pretty tired, and my shoulder was bit for the same from having to help hold you up. But we sat on a bench, and you just started to talk and talk and talk. None of it made sense for a bit, and then you talked about the night I had the intruder break into my apartment and how you first thought I was a bitch, until you actually met me. You drabbled on for quite some time, but don’t worry, that was nothing bad you actually said, I’ve gotten that a lot during my life,” Jemma shifted nervously again, and paused to catch her breath. She had been talking very fast and disjointedly. Her sunny disposition was marked now by a serious tone.

“Did I hurt you, Jemma?” Fitz asked concerned. He was now terrified he said something that crossed the line and Jemma wouldn’t feel comfortable being his friend anymore.

“No, on the contrary you said something of the opposite,” a small smile tugged at the corners of Jemma’s lips. She realized she had been lying it on heavy that he had done something wrong. 

"In fact, you actually said something I... was hoping to hear from you. Perhaps, yes, I would have liked to hear it when you weren't a bit of a drunken slop, but, I hope what you said is truthful, otherwise I would be the one quite embarrassed right now," Jemma followed up with.

Oh my goodness, dear woman, Fitz thought, could she just say it?

"Yes?" Fitz beckoned her on.

"You, you, sort of told me that you liked me," Jemma gushed. She averted her eyes to stare at the curtains covering his window. 

Fitz set the cup of coffee back down. This time he turned to face her directly instead of his crouching over the side of the bed.

"Are you okay over that?" Fitz asked, softly. Suddenly his hangover didn't matter as much, and he wasn't secretly envious over her cleansed sobriety. He realized he put her in a very tough spot last night saying that, and yes, he made a damn fool out of himself, but he also wanted to be sure that she felt comfortable, because he would never want to cause her any harm.

"I'm better than okay over that, I wanted to kiss you right then and there. Oh, Fitz, I wish you weren't drunk for that moment so it could have been special for you, too," she turned to look at him. She was biting her lip. Fitz could see the blush well up in her cheeks. Her whole body seemed to lighten up. Fitz beamed at her. Drunk him had done a good job.

"Well, that's the nice thing about mornings, if that they are a fresh start," Fitz said. Fitz went to pull the move, a move in his head he had calculated since the moment he knew he was indeed infatuated with her. He reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Just be casual, he thought to himself smugly. He followed up his hand by inching closer, so that his bare chest was adjacent to his sweatshirt she was wearing on hers. The sweetness of coffee on his breath met hers, and soon they were fulfilling the very wish Jemma had wanted last night. The kiss was tender, the kind you give someone when you want to give them the world and yet not take anything away from them at the same time. In the back of his mind, Fitz hoped this would be special for her in some way. That it wasn’t two people exploring the truth of a drunken heart, but finding the answers that had already been there.

When they pulled apart, sharing the same ecstatic but dopey smile, they didn’t even need to speak. Jemma just grabbed a hold of his hand, clung on to it. 

“I am very glad you don’t think of me as a bitch,” Jemma laughed. 

“Oh, I am going to pay for that one,” and with confidence, Fitz pulled in for another kiss. Thanking too many drinks for having this bittersweet moment.


	2. Prompt 2: Amnesiacs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 2 Fitz and Simmons loose their memories. See what happens!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #2 - Fitz and Simmons wake up and can't even remember their names. They have to survive in a forest and figure out how to get out and what happened. 
> 
> Will they remember each other?

The woman lying on the ground stirred first. Whether it was the blast of cold air passing from the trees or the realization that she had been lying on the hard ground she was unsure.

Her head felt like someone had popped it off and screwed it on entirely wrong. In fact, there was something very wrong but she couldn’t quite place it.

Oh wait… actually she could.

For starters, she couldn’t even remember her name, or how she got here. She needed to find clues. Dusting off her jeans, and straightening up her – what was this? – lab coat, the woman stood up from the moss covered ground. She did a slow 360 degree turn around to assess her surroundings, and came upon a lump of a person, also in a lab coat, a few feet away.

She approached cautiously, but it was apparent the man was still out cold. A name tag hung off the pocket on the chest of his lab coat. She reached down and flipped it over to read it.

Fitz, Leopold.  
Engineer, SHIELD.

It caused a few minutes of pause for the woman, like she was staring at a toy she had as a child, but otherwise his name didn’t ring a bell. Perhaps if she woke him up he would have the answers. She checked her own lab coat and found her own I.D. card clipped to the waistband of her jeans.

Simmons, Jemma  
Biochemistry, SHIELD.

She assumed they were co-workers. Good. That was definitely a positive sign. She crouched next to this Leopold person and gently rocked him from side to side.

“Hey, hey, wake up,” she accompanied with her shaking.

The man groaned, and his hands shot up to hold the sides of his head. Jemma reared back a bit, startled by his sudden movement.

“My god- this headache,” he muttered with distortion, his palms covered his mouth.

His accent piqued her interest. Scottish. Familiar to her.

After passing his hands over his face, he opened his eyes and stared back at Jemma. 

“Eh, who are you?” he finally said.

Jemma pawed at her badge again, forgetting for the moment what she had read on it.

“Jemma,” she read off of it.

He propped himself on his elbows, and struggled to lift himself further up. Jemma aided him in sitting up right.

“I have no idea what is going on,” he said, frowning and looking around the clearance of the forest they were in.

His grimace was contagious; Jemma hoped he would have answers or memory of what was happening.

“It seems you and I have lost our memories. Your name is apparently Leopold. Leopold Fitz,” Jemma pointed to the badge hanging from his lab coat’s chest pocket. Contorting his face, he read over the identification card himself.

“Leopold? What kind of bloody name…,” he murmured to himself. Jemma couldn’t quite catch the end of his statement.

In a louder voice, Leopold asked if she had a phone on her, and he began checking his pockets. He found his in a front pocket and Jemma found hers in her lab coat, the small pull of weight giving it away.

At first, both the phones were locked, but easily unlocked by fingerprints.

The background of Jemma’s phone was a picture of what she assumed she looked like (not remembering what she looked like struck her as a passing scary thought), and Leopold. They were head-to-head and making two different silly faces to the camera.

“Awe, look at this,” she exclaimed, and she showed Leopold her screen. He smiled and nodded accordingly, and flipped his phone around so she could see a similar but different picture of them displaying funny faces.

“Well, at least we have humor,” Jemma said with approval.

She went to look over her text messages next. Several were unread- one from someone named Director Coulson that beckoned to know where she was (several messages over the span of two hours, actually), and a new one from someone named DaisyQuakes, who had emoji’s of flowers and the open palmed hallelujah hands. She asked more specifically where her and Fitz had gone off to because Coulson was freaking out.

“I think I found you on my phone, let me text you and see if it works,” Jemma said, typing up a message to Monkeyboy.

Leopold, or Fitz, as the girl Daisy had referred to him, received the message several seconds later.

“Ypu, it is you,” he confirmed, showing her the picture of her face that popped up with the message. Her name Jemma was there too, followed by an assortment of hearts.

“Jeez, do you think we’re dating?” Jemma said, with an accompanied laugh.

Leopold was scrolling through their texts.

“It would seem so,” he mused. 

Jemm wasn’t too shocked by this. She had seen the messages, too. She stood up and offered Leopold the help up.

“I’ll text these people who seem to be concerned, but I think we should start looking for a way out- it will be dark soon- and colder,” Jemma said as she helped hoist up Leopold to his feet. He dusted off his own lab coat and pants and pocketed his phone. Jemma shivered.

While Jemma responded to the texts, carefully, Leopold fanned out and began looking for clues as to where they were and how they could get out. Three things were certain; they both had amnesia, they were in some sort of forest and the sun was going down. In fact, the only sunlight remaining came was cascading through the thick branches of the trees. It was early fall, colors had begun to change, but the threes were still full of leaves. One thing was possible, Leopold thought; at least he was stuck here with his girlfriend.

Jemma joined his search, and the pair of them meticulously scanned each square footage of the clearing they were in. Just when Leopold thought they should instead work on getting out of the forest, he stumbled upon a rock. And behind that rock was the first clue. 

“It is drone, a crashed one,” Fitz said having an a-ha moment. He picked up the small device and examined in intently from all different angles.

“Dopey…,” he added, completely ingrained in the drone. Jemma peered over from behind, putting her hand on his shoulder to stabilize her tiptoeing.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

Leopold’s hands worked before his brain did, like their memory hadn’t been lost. Pretty soon the drone turned on, and hovered in the air above Leopold’s palm for a moment. Then it began to fly away. Leopold quickly followed, causing Jemma to stumble a bit.

Leopold followed the drone along its course to some nearby bushes on the edge of the clearing. The drone, hovered again, then casually descended, leading Leopold to the discovery of a tablet, a suitcase and a whole bunch of other drones.

“Bingo!” he exclaimed, reaching into the bush and pulling out the tablet, which was glowing. Leopold began to prattle off what he automatically knew about the devices.

“The tablet is both a receiver and controller,” he popped in on. Jemma collected the rest of the drones and read off their names, the Seven Dwarfs.

“I’ll bet, I can program this with the GPS and they can lead us right out of the forest and back into civilization,” he beamed, clicking away at things on the tablet.

“Well, good, because it is nearly dark and who knows what lives in here,” Jemma answered. She opened the briefcase and found that it was the holding case for the equipment. A few clicks more and Leopold had done it, the dwarf named Bashful, took flight and led the way.

“So simple to do, these drones have amazing capabilities, biometric scanning, small specimen collection, bioluminescent restructuring, not to mention amazing GPS,” he said.

Jemma glanced at the screen. They weren’t too far in the forest, but far enough it would be completely dark by the way they got out. The dark didn’t frighten her, but just being in a strange place at night did. As Jemma and Leopold followed the drone, Jemma picked up a stick and a rock, sharpening a side. It was getting to the point where Jemma could barely see what she was doing. Leopold finally took notice and offered to help. He went to reach for Jemma’s makeshift spear but lost his footing in the darkness, tripping over an exposed tree root, and tumbling to the ground. Bashful halted, its small glowing blue light looked like it was levitating in the air.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,” Fitz hollered. He placed the tablet on his lap, and wrapped is knee with his hands.

Jemma sprung into action, busting out her phone to turn the flashlight on, and shoved it into Leopold’s hands so she could use hers. She tore a strip off the bottom of her lab coat, and created a tourniquet over the laceration just above Fitz’ knee. It didn’t look terribly deep, but would probably need stitches later on. And proper sterilization. The placement of the cut just missed some major knee damage, so Leopold was a very lucky man.

“You’ll live!” she said, wiping her bloodied hands on the remains of her lab coat. She was hoping this didn’t make her an easy target. Leopold handed back her phone, and she had to wipe blood off that too. He used her as an anchor to get back up, and leaned on her for support. The closer proximity was felt comfortable. And Leopold didn’t know what came over him but he kissed her. Jemma, a tad startled by his move, fell into the kiss, welcoming the warm effect the closeness of his body had on her. The kiss ended after a few moments, and then they were blanketed by the calm of darkness.

“Are you okay with the kiss?” Leopold said, quite sheepishly. Jemma reached for his hand in the darkness and squeezed. She liked him, and she was glad he liked her.

“Yes, more than okay.”

Bashful resumed its journey.

With Leopold’s injury, it took nearly twice as long as Jemma presumed it would take to get out of that forest. It helped that Jemma used the flashlight on her phone to illuminate the way, but they both suffered cuts and scrapes from low-lying tree branches and prickly bushes. When they resurfaced to the civilized world, they looked just as exhausted as they felt. And, they had only found a road, nothing remarkable on it.

At the side of the road, Leopold played around with the drones again, and used them as a beacon to find some kind of shelter, and they were in luck, they found a motel down the road.

“But we don’t have any money,” Jemma said, checking her pockets again to make sure she hadn’t missed a wallet. Leopold checked his as well.

“I have enough phone reception now, though, to send a call. I’ll call… Daisy!” Jemma said, already with it to her ears. It rang just once before it was picked up.

“JEMMA, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, HOLY CRAP, IT HAS BEEN HOURS!” the girl on the other end shouted. Jemma had to hold the phone a few inches from her face.

“Uh, hi…Daisy. Leopold and I were in a forest, and now we’re out of the forest. But, we are pretty much stranded here. Could… could you help us out, we definitely could use some help.” Jemma stammered through the words, not sure who Daisy was to her and how to deal with her.

“Of course! We have been waiting for you guys. Have Fitz message me the coordinates and I’ll send the Bus over,” Daisy responded.

“Oh, okay, well, thank you, Daisy, we’ll be on the lookout for a bus!” Jemma stated. 

And she ended the call. Jemma instructed Fitz what to do, and then it was just time to sit and wait it out. And it was so cold. At first, Jemma and Leopold sat next to each other should to shoulder. Jemma would anxiously peer down both sides of the road, but no cars ever came. After a half hour, Jemma began to nod off. Leopold was still tinkering away at his tablet (exclaiming things about how great the battery life was and so on). Jemma soon dozed off completely, leaning her head first on Leopold’s shoulder, but sliding down to his lap. He didn’t mind.

Pretty soon, a whirring noise in the air caught the attention of Leopold. He wanted to look around, but with Jemma on his lap and his leg stinging he wasn’t about to move around. Not a moment later, he didn’t have to, as a large aircraft appeared almost out of nowhere. This of course, woke up Jemma, who stared in shock. She lifted her head off of Leopold, and helped him up.

The cargo door of the plane opened, and out ran a single woman. 

“You guys had us worried sick!” she called out, Jemma recognized that voice as Daisy’s.

When she got closer, she stopped herself from giving the two a hug.

“God, you guys look like hell,” she exclaimed.

“Daisy, you found Fitzsimmons?” a male voice from the plane called out. He appeared on the ramp moments later. 

After helping Leopold up the ramp, Daisy and the man led the pair to a kitchen, where hot tea was waiting for them.

“So tell us what happened when we lost you guys,” the man said. Leopold and Jemma looked at each other. They shared the same unnerving looks.

“Well…” Leopold began. But he didn’t have much to say about it and stopped.

“To be honest, we both lost our memories,” Jemma said, clenching her eyes shut. 

Daisy’s expression changed, her eyes bulged and her mouth fell agape.

“But at least we had each other, and, you know, she’s my girlfriend so at least if you’re going to get lost and stuck in a forest, that’s the best person to do it with, ehm, to be stuck with…” Leopold said.

And this time the man and Daisy exchanged a look.

“Should we tell them?” the man asked, smirking.

“No, no, no! Don’t let it ruin their moment. We’ll just focus on getting you two back to tip top shape,” Daisy replied, almost pleading to the man.

“Well, saying that you lost your memories, is a good start, now we know who we are dealing with,” the man said.

“Um, excuse me, what’s your name, by the way? I know you’re Daisy from your voice, but…” Leopold spoke up.

“Fitz, I’m Phil Coulson,” the man replied. He didn’t seem offended or upset. Coulson had a warmth about him, it made him so approachable.

Coulson, reached over to a large file on the table nearby and thumbed through it until he found what he was looking for.

“We identified an Inhuman,” Coulson paused to address the confused faces on Jemma and Fitz, “an Inhuman- a super powered kind of hybrid human being, Daisy here is one, one who has the ability to manipulate memory. Bad news, we know that it can be permanent, but good news, your case isn’t, as you know how to speak and it looks like you’ve retained your training somewhere deep in your mind. So the next step is reversing it,” Coulson glanced over a sheet of paper.

He handed a few sheets over for Fitz and Simmons to look at.

After looking through them, they understood. 

“So we have to experience an electrical shock…” Jemma started.

“But we won’t remember our time as amnesiacs,” Fitz finished.

The pair looked at each other. They didn’t know they wouldn’t recall their feelings for each other. Or that they weren’t in a relationship. They would go back to being two best friends who were both too shy to enact on their feelings.

Coulson led Fitz, Simmons and Daisy to the lab, where Fitz picked up a charger that could omit a small enough electrical shock, but big enough to recalibrate their memories. He prepped it, and handed one of the two wires to Jemma, instructing her on his count to just tap the exposed metal to her skin.

She held it in her hand and waited for Fitz to finish prepping. She took his free hand with hers.

“See you on the other side,” she said with a smile.

He returned the smile, “see you too.”


	3. Prompt Three (Part 1): The Cosplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of a mini story arc. I just didn't have time today to write too much, so I'm splitting this one up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of a mini story arc. I just didn't have time today to write too much, so I'm splitting this one up. Probably no more than 2 parts.

“Oh! Look at this!” Jemma exclaimed enthusiastically.

She had been staring intently at something on her computer screen. Her body leaning in towards the monitor, her interest was piqued. Fitz thought maybe Jemma had come across some prominent scientific discovery in one of her recent projects. The tone of voice she used was pure indication that she was excited, and 99% of the time it was over science.

Amused and intrigued, Fitz shuffled over from his lab station to crowd around Jemma’s computer. What he saw wasn’t a complex molecular structure or a new element that would need to find a place on the periodic table, no, it was people dressed up in costumes.

“Isn’t it marvelous, Fitz?” Jemma burst, giggling.

Fitz did not share her excitement or amusement. In fact, he was slightly disgusted.

“It is people dressed up for Halloween, four months early,” he said, beginning to turn away.

“No, no!” Jemma interjected, stopping to gaze at a Doctor Who picture and point at it.

“It is called cosplay- and you can do it anytime you want, specifically at something called a comic convention. And guess what? I just bought us two tickets to one that is in two months,” Jemma squeaked, pulling up a receipt in her email.

“Oh, Jemma, no, no, no, take Skye- she would much rather do something like that,” Fitz said, dampening Jemma’s excitement.

“Take Skye where?” Skye said, strolling into the lab and catching the tail end of their conversation. She plopped down on a stool next to Jemma and spun around, until after two 360 turns she was staring alongside Fitz and Simmons at Jemma’s computer monitor.

“Oh, Comic Con! I’m already going, permitting we don’t get hauled off o an assignment. I’m thinking about going as Captain America to get on Coulson’s good side,” Skye informed. 

Jemma gave Fitz a look only to be described as ‘told you Comic Con is cool,’ as if Skye was the authority on cool. She topped her look by sticking out her tongue.

“Fitz is being cranky and does not want to go or to cosplay with me,” Jemma followed up, speaking to Skye.

Skye slipped off the stool, by choice, went over to Fitz and lightly smacked Fitz upside his head. 

“Ow-!” Fitz exclaimed, clearly exaggerating.

“What is wrong with you? Comic Con is the best thing of the year,” Skye barked at him.

Fitz did not want to be on the receiving end of a Skye and Jemma team up. He would never hear the end of it.

“Well, I don’t fancy parading around in a sweaty costume all day to be gawked and mocked at,” Fitz said defensively.

“Ugh, Fitz!” Jemma threw her hands up in defeat and sprung from her chair. She excused herself to get a cup of tea and made it clear she wasn’t making one for Fitz. A clear sign she was annoyed with him.

Skye stood next to Fitz with her hands on her hips. She tapped her foot at him, impatiently.

“What?” he responded with an annoyed tone present in his voice.

“The convention is on Jemma’s birthday, Einstein. That is what she wants to do this year. She wants to go to comic con, and spend time, with you for her birthday this year!” Skye pointed out, heavily enunciating each phrase of her lecture.

Fitz returned to look at the screen, and sure enough Skye was right. He felt humiliation well up behind his cheeks as blush. 

“Make it right, Fitz,” Skye said, moving behind him to exit the lab. Fitz followed after but instead of heading towards the entertainment room like Skye, Fitz made a beeline for the kitchen.

Standing in the doorway, Fitz announced he was down for the convention, and the costume wearing. Elated by the news, Jemma sat down her just made cup of tea on the table, ran over to Fitz, and enveloped him in a hug.

“You will not regret this Fitz!” She breathed into his ear. Jemma squeezed him tightly once more (Fitz couldn’t reciprocate, his arms were glued to his sides and pinned by Jemma’s arms). 

Immediately after, all Fitz heard about was the convention. It made him lighten up to the idea since he saw how ecstatic it made her. Three days later from Fitz’ acceptance, they met in the recreation room with Skye to start making costumes. Skye was a pro at this, and even recalled the time she had first met Coulson and she admitted to being a sweaty cosplay girl outside of Stark tower. She promptly showed Fitz and Simmons those pictures.

“So, what have you guys decided on being?” Skye asked afterwards. Jemma was kneeling on the floor, scrounging through a tub of fabric. Fitz, although compliant, splayed out on the couch, more interested in Mack’s Halo campaign then the task at hand.

 

“Oh I’d love to be the Doctor! And Fitz could be… you could totally be Rory!” Jemma grabbed a brownish fabric and lifted it up to her chest.

“What? Rory? No, no, no, I’m more likely to be the Doctor then you are,” Fitz exclaimed.

Skye and Jemma both turned their heads to him, with an ‘are you serious’ look.

“You better run, Turbo,” Mack lacked, sensing the girls anger rising. 

“What’s that supposed to mean, Fitz?” Jemma said, so delicately it was a cause for concern.

Fitz was in a sweat now. He didn’t mean it like he said he did, but, he knew he messed up.

“Oh no, no, no,” Fitz’ pride got in the way.

“I simply meant that I am more like the Doctor than you, and not because I am a guy and you’re a girl. You know I didn’t mean it like that,” Fitz continued.

“More like the Doctor? Than me?” Jemma said, getting up. She held the brown fabric in her hands as she walked over to Fitz. She threw the fabric on top of him. 

Fitz struggled to find his way out of it. Mack, glancing over, laughed and was promptly killed by an enemy and tea bagged. His laughter stopped.

“Doctor Simmons!” Skye called Jemma back to the ground. Fitz finally found his way out of the fabric. He could of swore he heard Jemma making a remark about also being British under her breath and she went back to sit on the floor.

“Maybe steer away from Doctor Who if it’s going to cause this kind of behavior,” she continued to lecture.

“Fine,” both Fitz and Simmons said in unison. 

“And we won’t even go in to Harry Potter either,” Skye added.


	4. Part 2 - Cosplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second part of when Fitz and Simmons cosplay together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Two of the cosplay prompt! The first part is in the prior chapter (Chapter #2)

After an hour of back and forth between the trio, trying to figure out costumes for Fitzsimmons, it was finally decided that Jemma would be Amy Pond and Fitz would be Rory, on the condition that he got to be the Centurion variety. Jemma had joked that they should have a Tardis follow them around, and Fitz made a mental note to surprise her with that. Being the Doctor caused too much friction between the pair; because they both wanted to be the Doctor so bad. So, they decided neither of them could be the character and left it at that.

After the decision was reached, Skye helped them pick out some patterns. They asked Mack to roll in on of the smaller training dummies to use are a mannequin. 

“Jemma, you should really be good at this, you’ve sewn up quite a few bodies,” Skye said, instructing her to sew a chalked line on a piece of fabric. 

Jemma threaded the needle with ease, and had no problem with the knot. However, once she placed the needle on the fabric, things didn’t go smoothly. In fact, Jemma was terrible at sewing.

Skye stared in disbelief at Jemma’s ragged lines and twisted thread. How could something like that even be possible she wondered.

“I am so glad you didn’t sew me up like this,” Skye said, her hand brushed along an imaginary line on her stomach where she had once been shot. No gnarly scar there. She snatched the needle out of Jemma’s hands and put her out of her misery.

“Fabric is a completely different texture and weight then human skin,” Jemma said defensively. She wasn’t used to not being good at something, and bitterly sat down.

Skye rolled her eyes. It was a poor excuse. She crossed the floor to Fitz and held out the threaded needle.

“Your turn Fitz,” Skye said.

“What?” Fitz replied, looking up from the television screen where he was playing Halo with Mack.

“You better go Turbo, you have annoyed these girls too much already. Hell knows what you would be in for if you didn’t at least give it a try,” Mack reasoned, having heard about how difficult it was to get Fitz on board with this. To further encourage Fitz, Mack promptly shot Fitz’ character in the head. Sighing, Fitz shoved the controller off his lap and resigned to defeat. He shimmied off the couch, took the needle from Skye’s outstretched hand, and huffed on his way over to the makeshift mannequin.

With ease, Fitz displayed graceful and steady hands, sewing the spot Skye had designated. Jemma and Skye were impressed, and exchanged surprised looks with mouth’s agape.

“When did you learn to sew so well, Fitz?” Jemma asked, looked closely at his neat stitches.

She was a tad ashamed of her own inability to do such a simple task. Always striving for positivity, she shrugged it off. There were a lot of things she was much better at then every one else.

“My mum taught me because I ripped too many holes in my pants as a boy and she didn’t want to patch them up anymore,” Fitz shrugged.

Skye patted him on the shoulder.

“We found your job… Jemma, we’ll have to find something else for you to do,” Skye stated.

Jemma smiled deviously. 

“I know what to do.”

Jemma moved over to the couch and picked up the controller Fitz had ditched.

“Alright, Mack, you’ve got a new video game partner for the next couple of weeks.” Jemma said cheerfully.

Mack nodded.

“Have you played this before?” he asked.

“Of course I can! No body tea bags better than the British!” she laughed.

“That’s debatable… remember the Boston Tea Party?” Skye called through clenched teeth. There was a strip of fabric hanging from her mouth as Fitz began taking over.

Over the next few weeks, Fitz became completely embroiled in making the costumes. It got to the point where he would yell at Skye if she even touched a pin. On the side, he was also building a working (well not traveling through time and space) Tardis. Jemma was unaware that he was building this, but wondered what he was doing with his spare time outside of the costume making.

In fact, Fitz got so wrapped up in the project that he wouldn’t let Jemma look at the costumes when they were near completion. He blindfolded her so he could fit it on her properly and make any adjustments. He even put the bright red wig on her head for full effect. It was two days before the comic convention.

“I am a genius,” he proclaimed.

“Well, with a Ph.D in engineering I’d hope so,” Skye said form across the room. She was blindfolded too, as Fitz had made her Captain America outfit as well and wouldn’t let her see it either. Skye had tried, and failed to convince Coulson to let her borrow his exact replica of the shield, but he did let her borrow a prototype that Peggy Carter had left in the basement, on the condition that she didn’t damage it at all. It didn’t even have a coat of paint on it. Fitz was enamored by the vibranium, it wasn’t a metal he ever really got to work with, or for that matter see.

Jemma ran some tests on the vibranium to see what the metal was exactly made of, she wondered if she could figure out it’s metallurgic properties to scan parts of the world that might have the precious metal outside of Wakanda. She highly doubted it, but it was a fun little project to undertake.

When the day of the con rolled around, the trio lucked out that they were free for the day, and woke up early to get prepped. When the girls put on their costumes, it was the first time they were seeing them completed. And they were amazed by Fitz’ handiwork. Who knew he was quite the tailor?

“This is unbelievable Fitz!” Jemma said, twirling around as the kiss-o-gram Amy Pond. She remarked that she felt she had just walked off the television set. The black and white police uniform was spot on to the one Amy wears. It was wholly impressive.

Skye was in love with the Captain America outfit. Not two seconds after having it on, she called Coulson to come over. Like a proud father, Coulson snapped pictures and gushed over the accomplishment. He even texted one to Maria Hill, asking her if she could show it to Steve Rogers for him. Maria promised she would show Steve, because, Steve still thought/believed Coulson was shanked to death from Loki. Coulson even let Skye takes pictures with his replica. 

Before heading out, Fitz made the big reveal. He whipped out his phone, pressed a button, and rolling outside of its secret spot was the Tardis. Coulson, in on the surprise, filmed the reaction.

“Happy birthday, Jemma!” Fitz said brightly.

Jemma didn’t know what to say. She just ran over to it, running her hands over the wood, the fresh smell of paint meeting her. She placed a hand on the door hand leaned pushed gently, opening the Tardis door inward. Giggling, Jemma stepped inside. 

“It’s not really bigger on the inside, just a holographic cloaking device to give the appearance of such,” Fitz explained.

Jemma closed the door after herself and her muffled laughing could be heard from the outside. With the door closed, the interior of the Tardis, although cramped, was lit up to look just like console room. 

“This is amazing, Fitz!” she called, still in the box. A moment later she stepped out, rand dashed over to Fitz, giving him another massive hug.

“I can’t believe you did this all for me,” she exclaimed.

“Well, I hate to admit this but I actually enjoyed doing this work, and look how cool we all look. Now, let’s get going, we’ve got a long day ahead,” Fitz wrapped his arms around Jemma in return. Amy and Rory. 

The convention was like candy land for the trio. With the Tardis trailing behind Jemma and Fitz and Skye leading the way, they became an attraction themselves. Jemma basked in the attention as attendees stopped to take pictures. Skye went off to go and find some collector’s thing for Coulson (Captain America related of course) leaving Jemma and Fitz to do as they pleased. Jemma and Fitz hung around the BBC booth for a while before getting something to eat and sitting outside in the shade for a bit.

They were approached by a photographer who offered to do a photo shoot with them, citing that their costumes were too good to pass on the opportunity. At first, Jemma and Fitz just stood next to the Tardis and smiled, much to the dismay of the photographer. She was nice, and just looking to test out her photography skills and thought this Amy and Rory duo would be the perfect setting. Plus, they had their own Tardis.

“You are Amy and Rory Pond, for Christ’s sake! Act like it, have some fun!” She called out. Fitz and Jemma shared a nervous glance and stepped towards each other. 

Jemma was the first to act, she planted a kiss right on Fitz’ cheek, and then stole his sword. Fitz chased her around the Tardis and finally caught up to her, nearly tackling her to ground. The photographer was cheering in the background, but Jemma and Fitz were having too much fun to notice. Fitz held her in his arms for an extended period of time, not wanting to let go.

“I waited. Two thousand years. I waited for you!” he laughed quietly to Jemma. 

In the heat of the moment, Jemma twisted around in his arms to face him, and without thinking kissed him. Jemma’s kiss shocked Fitz to a point where he nearly dropped her, but instead he pulled through and dipped her for the romantic effect. With the photographer snapping pictures away happily, and dressed as some of their favorite characters in front of a Tardis… it was too perfect to imagine.


	5. Prompt four- The first time Jemma makes a sandwich for Fitz after returning from the planet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Jemma makes the iconic prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella with a hunt of pesto aioli sandwich after returning the the alien planet is similar to the first time Fitz ever hard it. 
> 
> I was playing with styles here and wanted it to read like a narration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first time Jemma makes the iconic prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella with a hunt of pesto aioli sandwich after returning the the alien planet is similar to the first time Fitz ever hard it. 
> 
> I was playing with styles here and wanted it to read like a narration.
> 
> And for those wondering, with this written, I have broken 10k!
> 
> I'm at 10,870 words right now and projected to complete on Nov. 23. Let's see if I can keep it up! Cheer me on!

Prompt four- The first time Jemma makes a sandwich for Fitz after returning from the planet

Six and a half long months Fitz went without Jemma's prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella sandwich and pesto aioli sandwich. Of course, he went without Jemma too, but his palette had been missing the touch of the most perfect sandwich created by the most wonderful woman he had ever met.

Now, the thing with the sandwich wasn’t like those terrible jokes that misogynistic people crack about women stuck in kitchens making food for guys. No, in fact, that was Fitz’ concern when Jemma initially made the sandwich. He was reluctant to accept it on that behalf alone. The iconic Fitzsimmons sandwich has a history and its quite important to the inception of their friendship.

That story will have to come after, as now we recount the first prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella sandwich with a hint of pesto aioli made after Jemma returned from the alien planet.

It had been a particularly difficult night. With Bobbi back in the field after being taken off the disabled list, Fitz was needed even more to assist on missions. The more agents that roamed the field, the more support they needed, identities made, schematics downloaded, codes cracked. Fitz had caught wind of Daisy lifting his dwarf 2.0, and had blabbed it to the whole field agent department who in return all demanded one. Fitz was cracking them out hourly, tying up so much of his time. And with SHIELDS agents numbers steadily growing, the orders were stacked. This was also a testament to Fitz’ quality craftsmanship, as he didn’t trust these babies popping up on a production line, there was more room for error that way, and more room for them to be stolen. In Fitz’ controlled environment, he called the shots.

While SHIELD had gained a whole new class of field agents, in the science department the numbers remained the same. And with Mack on field duty and Jemma still adjusting (peculiarly as well), Fitz found the lab work to be a mountain that never ended. And to throw it in there, his independent research into getting back to the planet, and his secretive snooping into who this Will Daniels fellow was were where he spent a good chunk of his time too. His free time at least.

It was easy to see Fitz had been spread thin. Despite having healed well over time, there were still lingering characteristics that stumped him up at times. Sometimes he would build circuit boards backwards, forget the first half of formulas, and on the rare occasion, his hands would jam up and he would need to take a break. His garbage pail hosted a pile of discarded stress balls.

It was with these particular settings that led to the sandwich. Jemma mostly slept during the day, having become so accustomed to darkness, that nighttime was her key time to be up and mingle. And the Playground was a hotspot for agents up at night, often coming back from missions or leaving to ones on the other side of the world. However, in the science lab, daylight hours were generally the busiest time, and there weren’t too many assisting engineers to help the graveyard shift. Jemma was comfortable being in the lab for longer periods of time. She mostly just sat and read, getting accustomed to the noise of whirring machines and the sometimes chaotic pace. Plus the brightness. She recalled a time when she had submitted her proposals for the new lab to be brightly lit after the one on The Bus was poorly lit. She was biting those words now.

To combat the craziness and because Jemma was a night owl, she often headed to the lab at strange hours, usually two in the morning until six. Around seven the usual cast would begin to roll in, and Jemma slipped out before the rush, grabbing some breakfast and eating in the recreation room to avoid the lines. 

Fitz realized the eight hour days weren’t going to cut it, and doing straight 12 or 16 hours took a toll on his brain. He came to the conclusion that a split schedule would be his best bet, and plus he could get more work done at night with less distractions. Well, less distractions except for Jemma. 

The first night Fitz did the split schedule; Jemma was already in the lab. He told her not to mind him that he was catching up with work, and she showed him the stack of biology, chemistry, and biomedical journals that had been published during the months she had been gone that she wanted to catch up on. It was an easy months worth of reading. So, while the two of them worked side by side, they worked alone, quietly and without obstructing the other besides from the occasional tea break.

This arrangement worked out smoothly for the first two weeks, but Fitz’ work only continued to pile one, and his hours became longer and his stress reached catastrophic levels. Jemma could read these signs a mile away. After all, it was reminiscent on how Fitz and Simmons initially broke the ice, both having harbors less than pleasant ideas about the other person.

Jemma was always a proactive person, and standing by the wayside wasn’t an option. Although she had promised to give Fitz his space, she knew he was running himself into the ground. Just like his studies did back at the Academy. Fitz was disorganized to a fault before Jemma entered an introduced the wonders of implementing some structure and formality to it.

And she also introduced the sandwich. The ultimate comfort food.

When Jemma was merely enrolled in the Academy, and not yet attending, her parents took her on a massive trip across most of Europe and Northern Africa. They recognized that once at the Academy, Jemma would be a slave to her education, so the three month long holiday was meant to keep her energy and spirits up when her studies would be difficult and stress her out. They first began the trip in Northern Africa, hitting Morroco and Egypt, and then crossed over to Greece, Germany, Belgium, Switzerland, Italy and Spain.

They spent an entire week in Italy, and it was late one night when Jemma bit into a prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella sandwich with a hint of pesto aioli Panini. It was magic for her, and, speaking a butchered Italian she asked the waiter to send her compliments to the chef. (The way she said it was more like ‘sandwich good, cook love.’) The waiter was charmed by the young teen’s attempt, and brought out the chef who could speak English. Jemma was able to thank her personally, and the chef was so touched by what she said, that she brought Jemma into the kitchen to teach her how to make it. The chef said she wanted Jemma to always remember the magic she felt in her travels, and that food was the best way to care for someone. So, not only does the sandwich mean a lot to Jemma in that it highlighted a very special experience, but she is reminded of how she can help people with the smallest gestures, and spread some of that magic when she makes this sandwich.

The first time she made the sandwich for Fitz was in the Academy days before they were friends. Before they were even amiable with each other. In fact, she hadn’t technically made the sandwich for him; she had made it for herself. 

But, back to the present, where Jemma and Fitz are working late in the lab. 

Fitz was at his maximum, swamped with too much work that he had put upon himself. It disrupted his sleep to a point where he would just return to the lab, but his overall tiredness made him prone to mistakes or just work far too slow. Jemma knew this type of Fitz. She read the signs. 

Without speaking she got up from her work and headed to the kitchen, asking Fitz if he’d like a cup of tea. He nodded and quite brashly said ‘yeah, okay.’ Typical, Jemma thought to herself. 

She raided the fridge and pantry, rolled up her sleeves and worked on making two pesto aioli sandwiches (Panini, as that is plural in Italian), and two cups of tea. Ten minutes later, when she put on the final touches, she loaded them on to a tray and brought them in to the lab, where Fitz was fighting off sleep. The general rule was that food wasn’t allowed in the lab (except for beverages), but being relatively the only people in there, Jemma threw that rule out of the window.

She stepped quietly across the room, not alerting Fitz. He was startled fully awake when she set down the tray, and after rubbing his eyes, he looked at what she had put down before him. Jemma, now breaking the other rule that her and Fitz had put in place to keep their distance in the lab, drew a chair next to him and picked up her plate and cup of tea. 

“You looked like you could use it,” she smiled, picking up her sandwich and taking a bite.

Fitz stared at her, with a look of astonishment. 

“What?” Jemma mumbled, her mouth full of sandwich and a piece of lettuce hanging out.

“Just this, it reminds me of…” Fitz said quietly, looking into the distance with the words trailing behind him. He picked up the smile and served up a reluctant smile before taking a bite.

It reminded him of the first time he had the sandwich. Jemma was burning the midnight oil on a project, and snuck down to the dormitories kitchen to make the golden sandwich to give her a boost. She left it on the counter for just a moment to grab some tea from the pantry. While she had her back turned, Fitz, who also was up late slaving away at a project, strolled in, saw the sandwich, and in delirium picked it took a big bite out of it.

“Oh my gosh,” he said to himself, his mouth stuffed and his taste buds basking in some serious gastronomic glory.


	6. Prompt Five: Solving Will Daniels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ficlet in Fitz' point of view on his quest to identify Will Daniels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates this weekend. On Friday, I got home form work and was so tired. My day job is writing all day, and I was just so exhausted of pushing myself all week. I took the night off, I think deservedly so. On Saturday, it was back to writing, but it was actually tackling my pile of freelance work. And then I went out to a friends birthday and ended up being too hungover this morning to form a sentence. 
> 
> But finally back at home, I rolled up my sleeves and knocked this one out. It's a bit shorter then the others, but, I kinda ran out of things to talk with it. Do I feel that it's done? No. So there may be a part two, but not until later in this month when I recharge this idea.
> 
> This fic comes from a loose theory I had after 4,722 Hours aired.

Prompt Five: Jemma returns from the alien planet, and tells Fitz about her experience… but not all is as she believes it to be

(Fitz’ Point of View)

It took awhile for me to leave my room. I promised to help Jemma, because even if it kills me to do so, I know there’s a human being who has been trapped on an alien planet for 14 years. And she says he’s the only reason why she survived. In good conscious I cannot continue living knowing he is trapped there. But my heart weighs heavily on this matter, desperately trying to convince my mind that I could lose Jemma forever.

But that is the thing about relationships. It takes at least two people to want to be in a relationship. You can’t contractually obligate someone. You can’t have them sign a contract. I can’t expect Jemma to return my feelings because I have them for her. And for that little glimmer I received, she may have had them, too. Isn’t past tense one of the saddest use of words?

I originally wanted to wake up early and start on work the next day. That was before Jemma told me. Instead, I lay in bed for a long time, tired from not even sleeping well, but unable to sleep deeply. Jemma knocked on my door at least twice. She was checking to see if I was up – and okay for that matter.

In truth, this whole situation is very numbing for me. It was in these moments that I had some clarity. I need to know this man. And not just when we get him back. I need to know him now, and what his life was before. I finally was able to get out of bed, shower, try to get on with my day as normal as possible. But in truth, I haven’t known what is normal in life for a very, very long time. And there’s no going back to it.

The anger I’ve felt over this situation isn’t something I’m proud of, but I’ve worked it into a positive spin. It’s now the fuel for research. Late last night, with Jemma, after out talk, I put together a program to run simulations of ways of getting back to the planet. That work is done. But, now comes the time that I get to know Will Daniels.

When I got to the lab, I chipped away at some mundane work, and when everyone shuffled off to lunch, I began to research this man.

Except, I couldn’t find anything about him.

Sure, there’s plenty of people in the world named Will Daniels, and the variations of that name, but none match what Jemma told me. No surly U.S. Airman who was recruited by NASA for an undisclosed mission. His hometown showed no records that he ever went to the local high school or was baptized in a congregation.

Will Daniels does not exist.

I made sure of it by having Daisy take a stab at it. She’s been very busy, but after being told the story, she was more then reluctant to help. There’s a certain way people look at you after you go through something difficult. They don’t mean to do it on a conscious level. But there’s a sudden shift in the way they look at you, and the tonality of their voice changes in the slightest. It is pity. And it’s something I became well acquainted with during my long recovery, which in another truth will never be a complete circuit.

But I know everyone that has given me that kind of look has been well meaning. It doesn’t help to loiter on how uncomfortable it has made me feel. And, learning that was a big part of my healing process.

Daisy was thorough. She hacked into NASA, a tricky business to do especially as Coulson tangles with Rosalind, who used to work for them. NASA had no files on a Will Daniels. Or a William Daniels. There were no redacted files with even mentioning the Monolith. We had effectively burned that end.

So with my absence of findings, it was clear something was amiss, with either Jemma or her story. I replayed the harrowing details in my head, trying to glean something she had told me that would help connect the dots. Maybe I missed some important detail and just had the data wrong.

And then it hit me, Jemma’s phone. She talked about using her phone to take pictures and videos and keep a diary. She could have potentially taken maybe a picture or two of Will. If I couldn’t find him, then maybe I could see him.

This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation to have with Jemma. We could be talking about the new scientific relationships and I would probably still find something unpleasant about it. It was hard to be around her, and yet I still craved for it.

She still had it; it was in her makeshift bag. Completely dead. But that was not a problem. I proceeded to juice it up, retrieve the files. Jemma stood over my shoulder as I did so. She played with her hands. Crossed and uncrossed her legs. She was uncomfortable.

And then came the time. At first the pictures started out as any science plopped into a new environment would react. The blue planet was what she said it was, barren, blue, massive. The pictures of the moons were fascinating, and I immediately wanted to delve into research it’s horizon, but I held back.

The pictures then jumped around. Jemma said she started to conserve battery more at this point.

Then, a picture from her point of you looking outward of some sort of cage. This aligned with her story. She explained this bit again. We both held our breaths as we continued onward.

But, as I clicked through every image or video, there was no Will. It was more like a dark shadow where a body ought to be situated in a photo. I didn’t want to see Jemma’s reaction, but I could from the glare on the computer screen. Tears had welled up in her eyes. She had stopped twisting and connecting and disconnecting her fingers. 

“I don’t understand,” she said, a blankness to her voice.

I didn’t either. 

There was some truth to her pictures though. The NASA equipment was there. So NASA had sent devices there. 

“I don’t think he ever existed,” I said slowly to Jemma. It wasn’t a statement I made to upset her, but one I wanted to convey that we needed to seek out other explanations. She was just processing that her last six months may have been completely different then she imagined them. And I couldn’t tell you how terrible of a feeling that may be. 

“What did I…?” she began. A vocal inflection at the end suggested it as a question. Her inability to complete the question demonstrated her confusion, her hurt.

“We will get to the bottom of this, Jemma,” I said to her, swiveling around in my chair to actually look at her. She had a hand up to her chin, the bent fingers closed over her lips. She was looking to the floor away from me, contemplative.

“I can’t remember anything differently,” she said softly, her voice now with a rasp to it.

I could do nothing but just stare at her, feeling so helpless to what she must be processing. She was alone on an alien planet, her mind could have concocted this, I could accept this possibility, but I don’t think she could.

“We’ll figure this out, we’ll know what happened, Jemma,” it was an attempt to console. 

But she turned, looking squarely at me. She had that look in her eyes that I saw the previous night. That disappointed in herself look.

“But what if I don’t want to remember it differently?” she said.

I began to run with why she might feel this way. Maybe the reality of what had happened was actually so terrible that her mind had to conceive it this way. She constructed the image of this man to continue the last shreds of hope she had. He manifested as a manly man archetype. Roguish. Indiana Jones, James Bond… maybe even the Grant Ward type. She hung around with these types all day back at SHIELD, and she felt comfortable in their presence. So why not?

There was nothing else I could say to her so I stood up from the chair, and offered her the only thing I could at the moment. She accepted, and what had become an all too common occasion, she nestled her head into my shoulder and cried, not understanding the world she had lived in and the world she couldn’t understand to live in now.


	7. Prompt Six: Fitz gets sucked into the Monolith instead, what happens in the hours after...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this was a reverse prompt, questioning what it would be like the first chunk of time if Fitz were sucked into the Monolith instead of Jemma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had more fun writing about Jemma here then Fitz... you'll see...

Prompt Six: Fitz gets sucked inside the Monolith instead of Jemma

Fitz had just asked Jemma out to dinner. He wasn’t sure but he could see the excitement boiling under her skin. She practically skipped out of the room the Monolith was to shower and get ready, leaving Fitz to complete the diagnostics on the mysterious rock. He was shutting down one of the machines when it slipped off the side of the table, and broke one of the clasps on the container. Before Fitz could close it up, the Monolith shook. It quickly liquefied, and in a moment Fitz was sliding across the floor, his body being enveloped by its mass. Soon there was darkness.

Fitz wasn’t sure if a moment had gone by or a hundred, but his body began to be jerked around until he realized he had been thrust into air. Denser air. His body immediately felt the change, and a sticky warmth that felt like a tropical climate in the winter. With his eyes still clenched shut he could feel the light around him change from pitch blackness to something a bit lighter. In an instant, his body landed on an unfamiliar terrain. Whatever was under him was powdery, but yet still dense. It knocked the wind right out of him, and he struggled to regain his breath, bot even sure he could.

And as the dust cloud cleared around him, Fitz opened his eyes. 

The change in color was because he was surrounded by a shade of blue, so depressing, Fitz was sure he had died. 

Fitz grunted, rolling to his side to cough. His back sore from the fall, but he could feel nothing broken or shifted. A good sign. And the fact that he could feel pain must mean that he was alive in some sense. Had he just been swallowed by the Monolith? Although it had just happened, Fitz was convinced it could have happened ages ago. Stumbling to his knees, his shortened breath began to return to him and he twisted around to get a more conclusive view of his new surroundings.

He couldn't imagine where he was. But his brain chipped away using the little evidence around him to make scientific deductions. The first thing he marked off the lift that he was definitely not on Earth any more. This barren wasteland was devoid of anything for miles. Just strange rock formations and hills. No trees, no flowers, and thankfully no strange creatures that were going to eat him. Just plains of absolutely nothing.

Fitz made it to his feet, still huffing a bit from the fall. He put his hands on his hips and crouched, sucking in the air. It wasn't just him, but the air here was denser. And luckily there was oxygen here. 

"Well, this isn't good," Fitz lamented at his current predicament.

He debated on what he should do next, and began to fret knowing he probably wasn't going to get back to Earth, to Jemma, for their date. Oh, she will be mortified, he thought. He asked her out on this date and when she finds that he didn't show up, well, that would surely put a dent in any burgeoning relationship they had.

And what if he were to never see her again. What if he was going to die here? All these thoughts swarmed his mind. He could feel tightness close in on his chest again, a panic attack was making itself quite comfortable. He sucked in air in big gulps, like a fish freshly picked from the ocean. He had been doing so much better, but now, now he felt like all the recovering he had done in the past several months at reversed. He could feel his hands vibrate forcefully. 

No, he wouldn't let it win. He wouldn't let what Grant Ward do to him take him out again. He had enough problems to worry about at the moment, and this shouldn't be one. He regained control of himself, closing his eyes to meditate and let his mind clear of constricting thoughts.

Now, as a scientist, how should he handle the following. He addressed the elephant in the room, now he knew what the Monolith was, a space portal. And, while it would probably be terrifying for him to meet some kind of alien life form, nothing around him gave him an ounce of comfort.

But could he survive here? He knew he wouldn't be getting back, if at all, anytime soon. There was nothing here and Jemma wouldn't know straight away what to do. She probably wouldn't know he was gone until later.

And then he thought about her. She had probably just taken her shower, and was coming to her room to change. Knowing Jemma, she probably picked out a slew of outfits, and weighed heavily the pros and cons of each of them. He remembered what it was like when she was packing her bags for a weekend trip to visit her parents. She made herself forty different outfit combinations and ended up bringing eight of them, for a two-night stay. That was Jemma though; she needed to thoroughly weigh every option to find the best one. She did it with outfits, she did it when they were trying to find a cure to the Chitauri virus, and she would do it now, hopefully, to help him get back. Because Fitz knew if it didn't happen soon, he would die out here.

Fitz was right about Jemma. She was getting ready for their date. They had picked a really nice restaurant. Fitz had known she wanted to go there for awhile, seeing how she longingly looked at it whenever they passed it by on their way to a mission or something. He brought it up, and Jemma had blushed. He knew her too well.

And just like Fitz also predicted, she had picked out several outfits ranging from dresses to cute skirts. But then she considered wearing pants and something a little more casual. This was tough. And then she would still have to do her hair and her make up. And how serious was this date going to be? She wanted it to be serious, but she knew Fitz might want to take it a bit slower. He looked a bit terrified when asking her, so she knew it took a lot out of him just to ask, He wouldn't want to rush things, right? 

Jemma sought out Skye for help. She would have brought in Bobbi as well, but she couldn't leave the room, and was awaiting more surgeries. 

Skye was still reeling from the events that transpired with her parents, so it would probably be very good for Jemma to grab her for something completely unrelated to work. 

Jemma knocked on Skye's door and told her about the date. Sky leapt off the bed and, without another word, ran with Jemma back to her room to help pick out an outfit. They passed Coulson on the way, who also had been having a rough go of things with his missing hand among other things. He smiled at their happiness. It reminded him there could still be joy and things to look forward to even with all the bad that has happened.

Skye looked at everything before her. Jemma had far too many clothes. All of them were also so cute and adorable looking. There needed to be something in here that screamed sexy. To start, Skye began to put all the pants back in Jemma's closet.

"What are you doing, Skye?" Jemma asked, calling over the hum of her hair dryer. She was working on drying her hair in the mirror across the room. She could see Skye put the pants away.

"You're not wearing pants to this date, Jemma, let's be real for a moment," Skye called out.

Jemma paused from blow-drying her hair. She twisted around.

"And why not? Trousers are perfectly acceptable-," Jemma began lecturing.

"Not for this date, you're going to look so hot you will scare the heck out of poor Fitz. He'll have to pick his jaw off the floor, although he already practically does that every time you walk into the room," Skye laughed.

Jemma dropped her own jaw.   
"Skye! That's uncalled for, he does not!" She countered.

"Oh yeah? He worships the ground you walk on," Skye added.

That was something Jemma had worried about, and why she had been so hesitant to explore her own feelings about Fitz for a long time. She didn't want to be put on a pedestal, and she knew Fitz was the most well-meaning person out there, but the glorification of her, terrified her. She couldn't and didn't want to live up to expectations.

Skye rolled her eyes. She knew Jemma over-analyzed everything. But she didn't know how much Jemma feared being held up to a standard, perhaps because Jemma set such high ones for herself, she didn't want to have to live up to anyone else's.

"Your clothes are adorable, but they aren't going to cut it for this date," Skye finally said, matter-of-factly.

"Oh, Skye, we're going out together, it's not exactly a date," Jemma feebly corrected.

"When you explained it to me, you explicitly said the word date. Stop kidding yourself, god! I'll be right back!" Skye shouted as she exited the room.

Jemma this time, rolled her eyes and continued drying her hair. Her hair didn't take long, and it was practically dry by the time Skye bounced back into Jemma's room. She had a single dress on a coat hangar.

"This, is what you will be wearing," Skye said, holding it up next to herself. Jemma shut the dryer and turned around.

A little black dress hung from the hangar. But it wasn't just any old plain looking little black dress. Its plunging front neckline had a mesh fabric that stretched across the crevice of the chest area. And when Skye flipped the dress over to show off the back, it was revealed to Jemma that her whole back would be exposed, and she was quite certain that it plunged so deep her bottom would probably be peeking out.

"Oh no, no, no, Skye, that it way too much, especially for me," Jemma protested.

"And where did you ever get a thing like that?" Jemma followed up, knowing Skye would probably not wear this either.

"Have you ever been in the undercover mission closet?" Skye asked. Jemma furrowed at Skye. That was under lock and key. Jemma scowled, knowing Skye didn’t get in there because she had free access to it.

"How'd you get in there?" Jemma asked.

"It's amazing what my powers can do sometimes," Skye stretched out her free hands fingers in front of her and laughed.

"Well, I'm not wearing that, that is just too much," Jemma said.

"You're trying it on right now, and I'll make the final judgment of that," Skye said, crawling over Jemma's bed in between them and shoving the dress into Jemma's hands. Jemma sighed; she knew she could only appease Skye.

Jemma put the dress on without looking the mirror, too afraid of what she would see. She was certain it wouldn't cover anything. And then she walked out from her closet, and showed Skye, prepared to hear her laugh or say something like her bottom was sticking out.

Instead, Skye mocked a wolf whistle and told Jemma to spin. Jemma hung her head, almost shamefully, and turned around dejectedly.

"This is smoking hot," Skye said, grabbing Jemma by the shoulders and planting her in front of the mirror. Jemma was at first too scared to look, whipping a hand to cover her eyes. But she caught the image of herself from the corner, and slowly peeked through her hands. 

The dress wasn't as scintillating and scandalous as she had thought. Yes, it was a very sexy dress, but it was also very elegant. 

"Just put on red lipstick and you will kill Fitz," Skye laughed, seeing Jemma's expression change from mortification to adoration.

"I do look damn good," Jemma finally burst out.

Jemma had now worked herself into a frenzy of excitement. Skye had been a great help, picking out the dress, and finishing off her make up. The two of them visited Bobbi, to show Jemma off. Bobbi, although in a great amount of pain, gloated over how lovely Jemma looked. It cheered Bobbi up. As Skye and Jemma left, Hunter was just walking in Bobbi's room.

"Wow, Jemma, poor Fitz will have to gouge out his eyes after seeing you," he remarked, and Jemma knew his backwards humor very well. It was the highest form of compliment.

"Have you seen him?" Jemma asked, hoping that he could tell her what he was wearing, because if he was underdressed she would definitely changed.

"Nope! I haven't seen him since this afternoon. He's probably getting dolled up in his room though, door has been closed all day. Maybe he'll come out wearing the same thing and one of you will have to change," he joked.

Both Skye and Jemma rolled their eyes. Hunter was too much at times. Jemma bid Hunter a good night, and Skye walked with Jemma to Fitz' room.

"Wait, I should knock on the door, and then video him and you come around the corner looking like a bad ass. We have to get his reaction on this," Skye had said, stopping Jemma in the hallway just before his door.

"You're going to scare the daylights out of the poor man," Jemma countered, she was now wearing a grin so wide her cheeks were beginning to become sore.

"You're right, I'll let you two, enjoy this moment," Skye said, hugging Jemma before walking off.

"Have fun you two!" She called after winking and making a crude gesture. Jemma feigned a surprised look but, if Hunter was the cheeky guy of the bunch, Skye was certainly that of the women at the base.

Jemma approached Fitz' door, nervously. They had agreed to meet by the exit of the base, but Jemma didn't want any one else to be around, so it made sense for her to scoop him up. She had the feeling Fitz would have everything planned out like a gentleman, but she wanted to let him know it was okay with her to just go with things. She was feeling spontaneous, and that was probably the dress helping her along with that thought.

She knocked. No noise came from inside. Odd. She knocked again, louder. Zilch.

"Fitz?" she called out, hoping maybe her voice would get him to stir. Perhaps he had taken a nap? That was a ridiculous thought. 

Jemma knocked once more and announced she was coming in the room. Fitz usually left his door unlocked.

Jemma turned the knob, and opened the door. It was empty. Fitz wasn't in here. That was odd, too.

She stepped in and looked around. Behind his door he hung his towels for the shower. She grabbed each of them with her hand; none of the towels were wet or damp. He hadn't showered either. What was going on? Did he just forget, or was he leaving her hanging?

Feeling a bit deflated; she left the room, closing the door after herself. In the hallway, she nearly bumped into Mack, who was headed to his room.

"Hey Mack, have you seen Fitz?" Jemma asked. Her voice wasn't as spritely as it was just a few minutes before.

"No, I haven't seen him all day," Mack said, "and you look very nice by the way, he told me he had been planning to ask you out to dinner, I assume this is for that?" 

Jemma nodded. She excused herself and walked down the other side of the hallway, not sure where to go next. She checked the exit of the Playground next, and no one had seen him there.

Maybe, just maybe, he was still working? She doubted it because she knew he had been excited and was just adjusting the machines in the Monolith room. Maybe he lost track of time, it was possible. Science does often do that to a person. She made her way there.

Fitz wasn’t in there either. She thought he was playing a game on her, but just as she turned to exit the room, she noticed the machine on the floor. And then Fitz’ badge lying next to it. Strange…

Her eyes lifted from the ground and looked up at the Monolith. The door was closed, but, wait, the lock on the side…

Jemma squinted her eyes to see better, and took a few steps forward from the door, her hand still lingering on the knob.

And then, with a sudden jolt of horrifying clarity, she realized the lock was broken.

“Fitz?!” she called out loudly. Maybe he was pranking her, maybe this was a joke. This wasn’t a very funny joke.

“Fit?!” she called again, more exasperation in her voice. Nothing. The room was silent. The Monolith, unchanged.

With horror, Jemma exited the room, slamming the door. She raced down the hall, to the security center of the Playground. The high heels she was wearing proving no obstacle for her fear.

She wheeled around the corner so fast and burst into the office at such a speed, she nearly slipped. She tapped her badge at the door, and entered the empty room. The security room usually had an agent or two inside watching the monitors, but the base’s security did a thorough enough monitoring that if something or someone were to attack the base it could go into protection mode.

She dashed over to one of the computers and tried to pull up the security footage for the Monolith’s room. She was denied access.

“No, no, no, come on!” Jemma slammed her hands on the desk, just as an agent walked in. At first they startled each other, but Jemma waved her badge in the air.

“Please, please help me,” she begged, going in to an explanation.

The technician had her scoot over and pulled up the footage for the Monolith’s room for the past several hours. Jemma gave him a time frame of when she left the room to begin at, and the tech rolled the footage from there. 

She watched again as Fitz stumbled through his words to ask her out. She felt a fluttering in her chest, just watching him get all worked up. Then came the part where she exited the room. Oh gosh, did I skip? Jemma wondered to herself for just a spit second.

Just a few moments after she closed the door behind her, the video revealed her worst fear. Fitz had knocked a machine running a test on the Monolith, off the table, and in its descent it smashed the latch. The door became unhinged.

Just as Fitz went to lock it back up, the Monolith sprung to life, pushed open the door. Jemma watched in horror as he was knocked to the ground, his badge flying off his chest in the motion, and then dragged into the Monolith. The scariest part was how the rock returned to form, like nothing had happened at all. Even the door was pulled closed by its motion.

Fitz was gone.

With tears erupting from her eyes, Jemma got up without a word to the technician, and dashed out of the room. She found herself banging at Coulson’s office door in a panic.

“Sir, Sir!” she called out, causing Coulson to jog to his door to open it.

Jemma stumbled as Coulson opened the door. She had put so much weight on it that Coulson had to help steady her. 

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s going on, now?” Coulson said concerned. He guided Jemma to sit on an armchair, and kneeled in front of her, grabbing a box of tissues and handing it to her.

“Fitz.. the Monolith…,” she hiccupped.

“What happened to Fitz?” Coulson probed. He had assumed that maybe something happened between Jemma and Fitz and she was reacting out of a broken heart or something, but that was what he considered worst case.

“The Monolith… it took him…,” she coughed out. Coulson’s eyebrows lifted. He stood upright and poured Jemma a glass of water and instructed her to drink.

“We’ll get him back, Jemma, we will get him,” he said in a soft voice. He wasn’t sure of that statement.

On the other side of the galaxy, or wherever Fitz was, some time had passed. He wasn’t sure how much, but he was certain the date would have already started by now. He hoped Jemma didn’t think he was standing her up. He wasn’t sure Jemma would think of any of this.

Fitz had begun roaming the area; there wasn’t anything to see for miles and miles. The horizon continued on and on and the landscape played tricks on his eyes. He could feel hunger and thirst set in as he moved about. And began to look for something that was edible. But there was nothing, how could there be nothing here?

He headed to a rock formation that was about 20 feet off the ground. He figured if he would rest he would have to be somewhere high for safety, in case there was anything else roaming the planet. On his climb up, he noticed small weed-like planets. They looked nothing like anything he had ever seen. But he applied the same science about most plants he knew back home, uprooting them from the ground. He dusted off the odd looking root as best as he could, and hoping it wouldn’t kill him, took a bite out of the rope-like root, It had a gooey texture to it, which he hadn’t anticipated at all. It was like biting into a toasted marshmallow, but tasted like… like pure alcohol. Humans were conditioned to stay away form bitter tasting foods as many poisons had a bitter taste. He wondered what an alcohol tasting plant-like thing would do to him.

But he survived. He didn’t feel sick, which came as a surprise. It did make him think of the steak he had been thinking about ordering at the restaurant. And he had selected the very wine that was Jemma’s favorite. He enjoyed it too.

Fitz looked around the abysmal landscapes, yup, no beef here. 

Using the powdery qualities of the terrain, he drew a map of where he had walked from, so he wouldn’t forget. He would return there in the morning, but for now, he felt like maybe sleep would do him some good. He could explore more in the sunlight.

Except sunlight never came. Fitz woke up to an unchanged sky. The large suns or stars or other type of celestial bodies, in a stage of eclipse did not show. He checked his watch. It had stopped working. Great. The time on his phone had stopped too. And yeah, there was no cell reception on this planet, unfortunately. 

There was a lingering panic looming in Fitz’ mind. Where was this damn sun? The landscape looked completely unfamiliar from when he went asleep. He was so thirsty, he needed to drink something. He climbed down from the rock formation, stuffing some more of the strange plants in his pockets. Maybe they had water in them. You do need water to make alcohol, no?

He wished he had Simmons with him. Not to be selfish, but because she could tell him about biological properties of things. She would probably do so well surviving here. He needed technology… he didn’t know what to do with a barren wasteland of a planet. 

He surveyed the area. There was nothing prominent about the landscape where he could point out where a body of water, or something similar to water would be. He stayed up on the rocks, for hours. Although it was difficult terrain, it gave him a vantage point.

And with this reasoning, Fitz saw something in the distance… it was… orange. It struck out to him so much because everything else was blue. He changed his direction, and ventured out of the area he designated to follow the orange orb. When he got closer, he could see it was fire. Fire was good. Fire was very good. He trudged on.

And then, he saw a man, yes, it had to be a man. He was holding the fire. There was a man on this damn planet. When Fitz got close enough he called out, “Hello!?” 

The figure turned, and upon seeing him started to flee in the opposite direction.

“No, no, I’m not here to hurt you, I’m a friend!” Fitz shouted. He ran after, realizing how much of a threat he must look like. The light disappeared, and so did the man.

However, Fitz came upon a body of water. It was a formidable size. He ran his hands in it. It was warm, just like everything else on this planet. He cupped his hands and began scooping the water into his mouth. It tasted like water you’d find in a foreign country. 

 

“Oh thank God,” Fitz sighed. Feeling some relief. 

Then before he knew it, someone, or something, struck him in the back of his head. Fitz passed out. He woke up in a cage. His head was throbbing. A cage was a good sign that he wasn’t dead, or eaten. So there was that. Fitz struggled to remain positive. 

He waited, and waited. He passed the time by deleting things off his found to extend its battery life even more. It was hard for him to not look at his phone all the time, since he wanted to see Jemma so badly.

After what must have been hours, a figure appeared around the corner. Fitz was terrified, but held his ground.

“Hello?” he said.  
“You speak English?” a voice said, sternly. It was a woman’s voice.

“Yes, yes I do. My name is Leo Fitz. I got swallowed by a giant space rock and got sent to this planet or wherever this is. Do you know where we are?” Fitz responded, so surprised.

“No,” she said. She stepped forward.

For a second Fitz had to do a double take, she looked much like Jemma, with fair skin, shoulder-length brown hair, and dark eyes. He had to pinch himself.

“What’s your name?” he asked. She didn’t respond. Fitz asked again.

She stepped even closer, so that she was just outside the cage.

“Can you let me out, I promise I’m no threat, I just want to get back to Earth,” he said, pleadingly.

She remained unchanged.

“Annalise,” she finally said.

“It is, err, nice to meet you Annalise,” he replied, feeling a tad awkward with the manners. 

“Are you real?” she asked.

“Yes, yes, of course I am, back on Earth I’m a scientist, and engineer,” he said, confused by her. He had picked up a tactic from the agents that sometimes giving more information made you more trustful.

Her hands moved to the cage’s door. She took a knife out of her pocket and cut open the thick rope she had tied to lock the cage. She slowly swung it open, and Fitz moved in just the same pace as to not frighten her.

“You’re an engineer?” she question, blankly.

“Yes,” Fitz confirmed.

“Maybe you can get us out of here,” she said, stepping out of the cage’s doorway to let Fitz out. There was something off about her, so very, very off, but Fitz didn’t linger on it. He was just overjoyed that he wasn’t along anymore.

She brought him to an underground cave, and showed him all this old NASA equipment.

“I can work with this,” he said, inspecting all of it. Ideas churned in his head. He wasn’t sure how they could get back to Earth, but he knew having something to work with would lead him to the answer. He’d have to figure out how the portal worked, and f there was a way on this end. But it was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO yeah, I didn't do much creatively with Fitz. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	8. Prompt Seven: The Buddings of Office Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz thinks Jemma is unapproachable. Jemma thinks Fitz is an asshole. And now they have to work together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not sure what happened with this one. I wanted it to go in a different direction, but I kinda circled back into a comfortable spot. It did open up an idea for a longer fic, which I might endeavor to write post-NaNo.

Prompt Seven: A Little Office Romance

 

Rows and rows of computers with people hunched over, clacking away. Jemma wondered what had she gotten into. This was SHIELD, but it wasn’t the SHIELD she had imagined back at The Academy. In fact, this looked like any old rubbish office building with droves of people tailoring away at mundane tasks all day. That’s not what Jemma signed up for. She wanted to be out in the field, doing science. 

 

This was Sci-Ops, what Jemma had been taught as the operational brain for any scientific venture SHIELD pursues. But it looked so terribly boring. Jemma did not just spend years cooped up in a lab to spend years planted on a desk.

 

How wonderful, she thought.

 

The secretary brought her into a conference room for an on boarding/new employee presentation. She had been early, so she had to wait for the rest of the new recruits to arrive before they could start. She walked around the long oval table to the side with the floor to ceiling windows. A massive parking lot lay before her, and she could even pick out her car. Driving here was different; the security to get in was insanely tight. She felt like it was a police state. The tall wall surrounding the entire property also seemed to help that cause.

Jemma sighed. She longed to go out and collect specimens, study new species and other anomalies of the world. She wasn’t going to be making discoveries sitting at a desk. And besides, it looked like she wasn’t even going to get her own office. She had TWO Ph.D’s that meant something. Not… interpreting data all day. 

The sound of shuffling feet meant more of the new employees Jemma was starting with had arrived. 

Several people walked in, and at the end of the group was a slightly shorter man with a familiar face. Yes, Jemma recognized him from the Academy, but he had never seemed to warm in her presence. Still, it was someone she could probably befriend due to shared experience. Jemma introduced herself while taking her seat again.

After the polite introductions, Leo Fitz was the last one to say hello, because of where he was seated.

“You went to The Academy, right?” Jemma asked, after he said his name.

He arched his eyebrows.

“Oh, yeah, engineering,” he said, using as few words as possible. He still seemed to give Jemma a cold shoulder. She wondered what his deal was. She busied herself with looking at all the different corners of the room. None of that was entertaining. It was a boring conference room. After a few more minutes, the human resources coordinator bounded in, all bubbly and energetic for a Monday morning. She stood at the head of the table and looked around. She introduced herself and then had everyone at the table introduce him or herself as well.

After Fitz had introduced himself, the coordinator called him and Jemma aside, and told them she would be sending someone to get them. They were in a different department.

Thank goodness, Jemma thought. She knew she didn’t belong here. Fitz and her waited outside the conference room for another employee to swoop up and grab the. There was uncomfortable silence between them.

They were going to be working with each other, they should be talking and getting to know each other. This was a new frustration for Jemma. He hadn't been very receptive to her, and she just wanted to know why. With a few more minutes of silence passing through, they continued to wait. Luckily, Jemma was saved from even more awkwardness when an intern jogged up to them, sweating profusely.

"I am SO sorry for the wait," they stammered, nearly loosing the stack of papers in their hands. Jemma and Fitz both went to help the poor frazzled kid. He thanked them both graciously and then told them to follow him. The intern brought them outside to the hallway, and instead of returning to the elevators Jemma and Fitz had used to get up to this floor, the intern walked through a restricted door. In that restricted room, was nothing but another set of elevators. The intern stopped in front of them.

"I can't go any further, both of you have to scan your hands to unlock the elevator," he explained, nudging to a device on the wall in-between the pair. Fitz and Jemma handed back the papers they had been carrying for the intern. He wobbled with the extra weight, thanked them, and bolted outside the room.

"You first," Jemma said to be polite.

"Ladies first," Fitz said, extending his hand out.

Jemma tilted her head. Why was this guy so puzzling? She bowed her head at him and placed her hand on the scan. In another quick moment it recognized her name and had a picture of her on the screen. It was her picture from her Academy graduation. Jemma smiled at the delightful memory. She graduated that day with two Ph.D.'s of course she had a lot to smile about. She was surprised this device had this information.

After Jemma moved away, Fitz placed his hand on the scanner and had the same reaction. His picture popped up and it wasn't as flattering as Jemma's, for sure. Jemma could not help but giggle at his bad picture.

The elevator on the right's doors slipped open, and the empty lift waited for them. Jemma let Fitz step in first and then followed. Their immediate reaction was to ask each other what floor they were supposed to, thinking they missed that vital piece of information from the intern. However, when they glanced down at where the panel would be with floor numbers, it was empty. There was not one button.

The doors slid closed.

"Well this is certainly an adventure," Jemma said, with excitement and anxiety in her voice. She loved the unknown, because she loved figuring out the unknown. It was largely the reason why she became a scientist, because she would have the ability and support to find this information.

The elevator began to descend immediately after the doors completely shut. It either already knew where they were supposed to go or only went to one particular area. That was Fitz' guess at least.

It was a quick ride, but felt longer due to the silence. Fitz hummed. 

The elevator stopped smoothly, and a second later the doors were peeling back open. Jemma was nearly o her tiptoes, ready to welcome this new life. She had worked so hard all these past years and now she had something to show for it.

A sprawling lab was splayed out before them, and there were hordes of agents and scientist’s crossing the floor. Everyone looked purposeful. Jemma stepped out first, practically on the tips of her feet, excitement pumping throughout her body. She was bold. Fitz slowly followed her. The slouch in his shoulders suggested he was more nervous. But that wasn't something for Jemma to be concerned with. In fact, now that she was where she was supposed to be, she probably didn't need to be around Fitz anymore. She would make new friends here. Her co-workers would probably be as enthusiastic as her about this.

Co-workers! The very word in Jemma's mind caused her to smile. She wasn't sure where to go after stepping out, but let her eyes scan the floor side to side. She felt home.  
A man impeccably dressed in a suit branched off from the sea of scientists and agents and stepped up to Jemma and Fitz, who were now standing shoulder to shoulder.

"Jemma Simmons, Leo Fitz, Welcome to SHIELD," the man said with a smile.

Jemma beamed back at the man, eager to start. Fitz mumbled a hello back.

"If you follow me, I will give you the tour. But, I don't usually give tours around here. My name is Phil Coulson, and I am so glad I have both of you to join my new team," he stated, beginning to walk down the hall.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Coulson... sir," Jemma said, trying to be polite as possible. He led them passed a kitchen and pantry, briefly giving their description. After a few more rooms, including a gym, training room, and also one of the three labs, he abruptly stopped the tour.

 

There was still much of this floor left to see, so Jemma was confused that Coulson had stopped. 

He was soon joined by a woman with a stern face. She was older, but her beauty had not diminished a day.

"This is Agent Melinda May, she is part of the team you will be joining.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Agent May," Jemma began politely, "but what team are we joining, if I may ask, is that different from SHIELD? I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I am putting together a small team of agents and scientists to traverse the the world, eliminating threats, curing alien diseases and also taking care of any other business that comes up. The world is a lot crazier then people know it is, so we need to keep things a little contained so there's not mass hysteria. I selected both of you since you were at the top of your fields," Agent Coulson explained.

Jemma was shocked, this was definitely not what she thought she signed up for, and although it was intimidating, she couldn't stay away from the adventure. Fitz actually seemed to perk up too, but his was accompanied by a look of sickness.

"Now, if you follow me, I will show you The Bus," Agent May took over. Coulson excused himself, and walked away hurriedly.

Agent May brought them to a hangar with a large aircraft inside of it. Plenty of personnel circled it, filling it up with supplies.

“This is The Bus. After I give you the tour, you will each have a car take you to your residencies. Pack only the necessities. You are expected back in three hours from there. Wheels up in four hours,” Agent May added.

A half hour later, Jemma and Fitz were in separate cars. Jemma was still trying to process everything. Fitz, on the other hand, was nervous in every sense of the word.

The day didn’t start out easy for him. He walked into that conference room, and there was that girl from the Academy he had secretly pined for year after year. But she was too beautiful and too intelligent and that kind of thing always scared Fitz away. He spent hours wondering how she could ever give him the time of day, not ever believing she ever could. She was too hard to approach, always so sure of herself and her studies. And now he would be working with her. In the same lab. He would have to talk to her. Fitz sighed, it was nerve-wracking enough to be starting a new job, but to be the lab partner to the girl you’ve only been in love with since day one... that was an even tougher situation.

Back on the Bus, Fitz and Jemma got to meet the rest of the team in a sort of sit-down icebreaker session. At the end, Jemma excused herself to go and check out the lab again, she wanted to make sure it was to her liking. 

Fitz took this as a good opportunity. After a few minutes, he went down to the lab as well. Jemma was checking out her main work station, Fitz’ was just across the way.

“Hi, Jemma,” he said, sheepishly walking into the room.

“Oh, hey, how are you liking all of this?” she asked. She was so friendly.

Fitz looked around the room, and smiled.

“I never thought I would get hooked up with such a nice lab straight out of the Academy,” he said, he let a grin come over his face.

“Right? It’s wonderful,” Jemma agreed.

“This morning when I walked into that conference room, I couldn’t help but think about how terrible it would be if I had been assigned to a desk job,” Fitz confessed.

“I was pretty bummed out about that,” he added, as an excuse for his poor behavior.

“Really? I had thought the same thing. I for sure thought that I was doomed to the life of a miserable worker bee,” there was excitement in Jemma’s voice. The same kind of excitement she had when she talked about science.

“I also wanted to apologize, for if I ever came off as rude to you. Sometimes I just can’t help the grumpiness,” Fitz said sincerely.   
A huge sigh of relief happened internally in Jemma. Oh my gosh, she thought, he didn’t hate her.

“Well all I can say is I look forward to working with you, Mr. Fitz,” she smirked. 

“Oh, just Fitz,” he corrected, graciously. He meant to say his first name but now it was too late, he bit his tongue. Crap.

“Fitz,” she smiled. And such a glorious smile she had. Now he had a reason to look at her.

“I look forward to working with you,” he said, extending his hand.

Jemma took it, his hand was so warm. She didn’t want to stop holding it.  
Fitz retrieved his hand and slid it into his jean pocket. He gave Jemma one last smile before bowing out.

After he left, Jemma put her hand to her forehead, she was feeling flushed. He was so handsome up close. She wondered if she was going to get any work done.


	9. Prompt Eight: Scientific Stoners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma and Fitz Succumb to Peer Pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I started this chapter like two days ago, and then got interrupted by writing something different. I wanted to come back and finish this last night, but when I got in from work I heard about the tragedies in Paris and Beirut and, I just needed to turn off for awhile. 
> 
> This morning I was finding it rather difficult to get words down on pages so I sought out my NaNo writing group. The municipal liaison for Paris for NaNo had posted that she and a bunch of other Parisian Nano-ers were in the area affected in Paris at a write-in. They ended up staying there all night to write. It was very inspiring to hear. 
> 
> So, this may not have turned out as silly as I wanted it to be, but I hope it's silly enough for you to take solace in for a few minutes of your day.
> 
> And, in no way do I want to condone drug use here, just me playing around with putting Fitzsimmons into different settings and see how they react.

Prompt Eight: The Scientific Stoners

There were few rules at the Academy about drug use, in fact, sometimes it was even encouraged. There were plenty of professors who had talked about their own use, whether it was in days gone by or currently was unbeknownst to the the students. One professor even suggested that if you’re ever stuck on a project, and you’ve looked at it from all different angles, to get high and revisit the problem.

Some students took that to heart, having setting up an offshoot to The Boiler Room just for that purpose. For the most part, if you attended the Academy, you stayed on the straight and narrow, knowing how marginal the line was for being kicked out.

Skye was a new student at the Academy. She didn’t really fit in with the rest of the student body. SHIELD had discovered that the 16 year old successfully hacked into some of SHIELD’s most classified files, and instead of apprehending her, they offered the orphan a spot in SHIELD’s intelligence program, located at the Academy. She was very much an outlier, not having the grades or the motivational drive as other students, and when she learned about the secret room in the Boiler Room, she clung to it.

One of the benefits about the Academy is the real world scenarios they encouraged on the students. They wanted the different programs to work with each other, because that’s what it would be like once they graduate and are officially SHIELD scientists and members. So you wouldn’t often find a biology and chemistry student hitting up a hacker outside of this setting, but Jemma Simmons, a 17 year old nearing graduation, had a final project that included the skills of one.

Jemma had first went to her best friend for help, 17 year old engineering student Leo Fitz. He was better at building gadgets then cracking codes, and couldn’t get fully there. Putting their heads together, Fitz suggested reaching out, and Jemma and Fitz ventured to the Boiler Room to find the help Jemma needed.

As the pair floated around the room, seeking out a hacking student, they were coming up empty handed. Jemma was growing frantic, she needed a hacker to access classified files for research integral in her completion of her senior project. She couldn’t graduate without this.

After an hour, Jemma and Fitz stood by the bar, trying to dredge up an idea on where to find a hacker. Hackers were notoriously not present on campus, often cooped up on their computers. Just like Jemma and Fitz stuck to their labs.

Jemma stared at the oak surface of the bar, leaning on it and swirling around a glass of fresh brewed beer. One of her chemistry peers enjoyed serving up their brewed concoctions.

Fitz faced the other way, looking out to the chaotic crowd of the room. People danced and played billiards. They tinkered with small science projects at tables. Fitz noticed a dark pocket of the room. He had always known the door was there, but never put too much thought about it. It was designed to make you forget it was there, it was clever. But he knew what was behind it, and it might hold the answer to Jemma’s predicament.

“Come with me,” Fitz said, crossing over Jemma to grab the hand farthest from him as she faced the other direction. She spun around, caught off guard by being pulled away. She nearly spilled her beer. Fitz could not hear her disgruntled protests over his brash actions over the music.

He led Jemma to the door in the corner, and before opening it, looked back at Jemma with a smile.

“I don’t want to go in here,” she said. Not because she didn’t approve of what occurs in the room, but because she was frustrated. She also wasn’t making the connection Fitz had made. Fitz disregarded her, opened the door, and pulled her inside.

It was a fairly large room, with a low of glowing lights. All of the couches, which were low to the ground, were positioned in a large semi-circle. There weren’t too many people sitting on them, or rather laying on them so they were draped across, but there were enough that they looked up at the newcomers.

The room was well ventilated, but Fitz and Simmons could still feel the thickness of smoke in the air. 

“Hello!” Jemma piped up, nervously. She even waved her hand a bit. She received an appreciative nod from the group.

 

“I’m a senior biology and chemistry student, and I need some help with my final project, do any of you happen to be hacking students?” She continued.

Two out of the eight people in the group fidgeted. One was a girl with long brunette hair and golden highlights. She had lifted her own hand to wave in response to Jemma’s question. The wave ended up looking more of like a salute. The guy who fidgeted had merely nodded.

“Oh, excellent, may I draft either of you for my project? I will of course compensate you in any means necessary, whether it is monetary or supplemental to your studies,” Jemma took a few steps closer to the group. Fitz stayed behind.

“Nah, girl, come sit here, I’ll help you out, no charge because, like, we’re here, you know?” The girl said. The sound of her voice sounded dreamlike. 

Jemma turned back to Fitz who egged her on; Jemma took a seat next to the girl. Fitz followed too. It had been awhile since they had made new friends, right?

“To understand hacking you just gotta see things differently, you want to smoke?” The girl explained. There were a couple of collective nods in the group. They were a quiet bunch, Jemma thought.

 

“Smoke?” Jemma said, acting like she didn't already know what was going on here. 

“Yeah, I’m assuming you haven’t, you look wound, tense, it’s good for you. Right? You said you’re a biochem student? Have you studied how the body responds to different chemicals? This is just an experiment, another one in a long line on experiments,” the girl said.

The person sitting next to her handed the girl a brown cigarette, or at least that is how Jemma would describe it, sometimes too innocent for her own soul.

“I’m Skye, by the way’” the girl said. She put the strange cigarette between her lips and brought a lighter to the end, inhaling at the right moment so the tip glowed red. She took a long drag.

 

“I’m Jemma, and this is my friend Leo, but call him Fitz,” Jemma said politely, putting a hand on Fitz’ shoulder.

The group took the cue to introduce themselves as Skye exhaled a plume of smoke. Skye carefully handed Jemma the cigarette, a blunt as it’s properly called.

Jemma stared at it, not sure what to do. In her head she listed the knowledge she had about cannabis. It’s medicinal benefits. In the back of her mind she pulled on information about how it became illegal in the states. It was something about how paper mills didn’t want hemp to replace paper products, since hemp is more durable and an all over better resource. The paper mills got politicians on board and started to use marijuana as the frequent term, sullying its reputation because people tended to stray away from foreign terms. Jemma’s mind fogged over, she wasn’t sure she had her information quite right.

She glanced over at Fitz, not for permission, but to show off that she was doing something new and exciting.

“I promise you it’s not a bad experience,” Skye said.

“Yeah, not everyone gets paranoia, I think that’s more of a mindset people get into,” someone from the group said, it may have been the guy named Dustin. 

 

Jemma put the unlit end to her lips, the wet paper causing her to shiver. She wasn’t a Germaphobe, but working in biology meant you saw things a little differently. Skye reached over with the lighter, the flame not too far from Jemma’s nose. 

For science, she thought.

“Just inhale lightly, and hold it in your chest a bit, feel it. You might cough a little and your throat will probably get dry,” Skye informed as she set the fire to the tip. Jemma complied, feeling a rush of smoke fill the empty spaces of her chest. She could feel it swirl inside her head. She closed her eyes, and for a moment neither exhaled or inhaled, letting chemical reactions take over. 

 

She felt lighter, like a lingering doubt had been lifted. She cared, but was not concerned. It was a strange feeling, but she felt okay with it. She exhaled, sputtering a bit from the dryness the smoke caused. She wished she had a cup of tea nearby. Jemma took the lighter, and passed both pieces to Fitz. He hesitantly took them, looking at Jemma to see if it was okay.

 

She smiled, a heaviness righting on her eyes. Her body did not feel relative to everything in the room. She surveyed the group, they all looked happily back, intrigued that the newcomers we're welcoming to their lifestyle. Jemma could hear Fitz cough a bit roughly. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and then moved to his back where she rubbed just below his neck. He looked back at her, she could feel heat emanating from his face, or maybe she imagined it. Everything felt so warm.

Jemma couldn’t stop giggling. She was natural a very upbeat person, and the weed had only amplified that. Everything brought her joy. She looked at Fitz and laughed. His experience was a little different then hers. He felt intense tingling in his fingertips. It was strange yet intriguing. He couldn’t stop looking at his fingertips. 

“You guys having fun?” Skye said, cutting in between the two.

“This is quite fascinating,” Jemma teetered, turning to Skye. Fitz, who had remained quiet and introspective, placed a palm on the side of Jemma’s face. He hand was very warm.

“Can you feeling the tingling, Jemma?” he asked quietly.

Jemma concentrated really hard on his hand. Trying to imagine the feeling he was describing.

“No, nothing Fitz,” she said earnestly.

Fitz then placed his other hand on the opposite side of Jemma’s face. He then pushed inward with both hands, squishing Jemma’s cheeks causing her to make funny faces.

“You guys are so cute, how long have you been together?” Skye asked. The blunt had made it all the way around the circle and it was back to Skye.

In between laughter, Jemma choked out that they were friends. Skye rolled her eyes, as she didn’t believe it.

“Fitz, Fitz, Fitz, okay, now, stop…squishing…my face,” Jemma giggled. The sound she made was contained, due to Fitz’ hand placement. 

Skye exhaled, and the smoke welled up in front of Jemma.

Fitz obeyed, removing his hands and staring at his palms, and then flipping them over. His mind ran wild with speculation about his hands. He had never concentrated on them so hard before.

This time, Jemma lit her own blunt. She passed it to Fitz after; who lit it and took a hit and passed it, and then returned to his hands.

“Hey, Jemma, have you ever thought about your hands?” Fitz asked.   
“You’re a happy smoker, and your boyfriend over there is a philosophical one,” Skye joined in on the laughter. They both ignored Fitz. Skye turned around to grab something behind her, she placed a coloring book and pencils in front of Jemma.

“Oh! I haven’t done one of these in ages!” Jemma squealed, she flipped through the pages, it was a Disney coloring book. Fitz unglued himself from his hands to look over. 

“Can I do one?” Fitz said, he was envious.

Jemma carefully ripped off a page for him. She ripped it very slowly. She gave him a page of Beauty and the Beast.

Jemma herself snagged an Aladdin sheet.

“Skye, would you happen to have something to drink? I’m absolutely parched,” Jemma asked. She saw Fitz was looking the same.

“And Fitz as well,” she added.

“Do you Brits like tea?” Skye said, mocking a British accent.

“I’m Scottish,” Fitz piped up.

“That was a terrible accent,” Jemma snorted. She began to get very wrapped up in her coloring book. 

It was about an hour for both Fitz and Jemma when they both felt their lids weigh heavily. They had had a good time for the most part. Mostly describing it as a way to analyze the world around them with abstract sensibility. Scientists often get boxed into looking at what they know based on the findings. There is little speculation, although creativity can help connect ideas.

Jemma got Skye’s number so they could set up a time to hack into the websites she needed to get into. Tired, but overall feeling numb with happiness, Jemma and Fitz sauntered back to their dorms, crashing on a couch, and haphazardly using each other as pillows.

Jemma was drifting off to peaceful sleep, when Fitz piped up.

“I’m hungry.”


	10. Prompt Nine: Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of a man, a woman, and the corpses of a thousand evil men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit gory.
> 
> And needs a little backstory.
> 
> So, I am a product of the mid-2000's. A leftover emo kid. My favorite band was (and is) My Chemical Romance. A band known for their high concept albums. One of their albums (and actually their first album as well) tell about a story of a Bonnie and Clyde like couple. The woman is killed in gunfire (in the first album) and in the second album (Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge), the man must avenge her death by killing one thousand evil men.
> 
> So, here we have it, Fitzsimmons style.

Prompt Nine: The Story of Revenge

 

The leaves crunched under Fitz’ footsteps. He slowed his pace the closer he reached a particular tree, its fallen leaves the culprits behind Fitz’ noisy stride. His head was tucked into his neck, wind whipping at the sides of his face, stinging his eyes. He adjusted his hold on his coat, pinching at the middle to keep it closed.

Once up the small hill to the tree, Fitz lifted his chin up slightly. What he was staring at was something he never had wanted to imagine in all his years. There were fresh flowers on the ground, their petals flapping in the wind, and some being ripped off entirely. Their cheerful color did nothing to ease the abysmal setting.

Fitz read her name freshly engraved on the headstone.

Jemma Simmons

The past week had been surreal. Every passing moment wrapped up into a vortex of disbelief.

She was dead.

Rage and sadness burst in Fitz’ mind, each competing to be the top reactionary moment. Six feet below his feet laid the love of his life. Boxed up and pumped up with a nightmarish concoction of chemicals. 

He hadn’t attended the funeral, just a few hours before. It was too hard for him to be there. He wanted to mourn Jemma alone, because he knew for the rest of his life that was how he would feel without her here. He didn’t want a slew of funeral attendees, shuffling their feet towards him, offering the same condolence over and over again. He wanted to grieve in his own way.

Flashbacks of memories poured in his mind. He remembered only the good, her smile, her laughter, and her relentless optimism. His mind tried to grasp that shred of light she had brought in so many years ago when they met. He thought of her and he thought of the taste of tea, the feeling of curled up on a couch sharing a blanket and watching television on a Saturday night. He thought of her unassailable intelligence.

He felt himself wanting to be in the ground next to her. 

Fitz placed a hand on the top edge of the headstone. He kneeled, his face at level with her inscribed name. How those very words haunted him. He pressed his forehead to the cold stone, hoping it would absorb some of the immense pain. His nose flared, a surreptitious pinch at the bridge of his nose engaging tears. His heart rattled underneath his rib cage, he felt so guilty being alive, being able to feel, being able to hurt so deeply.

His crying strengthened until he could no longer contain it soundlessly. Large, whooping sobs, carried throughout the wind. 

“Jemma, Jemma, Jemma….” he recurrently cried, the words choking up in his throat. As if saying her name would bring her back or reverse time. The futility frustrated him; he balled up his fist and slammed it upon the stone, gashing his hand open on a rough inscription. 

He paid no attention to the blood seeping from his wound. Its pain hadn’t even registered; the emotional gravity had completely fogged in his mind. He was there when she died, she was right next to him, it could have been him, and in fact it should have been him. The guilt, the survivor’s guilt and the echoes of people telling him it wasn’t his fault thrashed inside his mind.

“I would do anything for you, to have you here,” he moaned, so encroached in despair he spoke in a wisp. 

“Anything?” 

At first Fitz thought he imagined the voice. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and the shivers rattled down his spine and arms. That was the voice of a ghost, or it was in my head.

He slid his head up from the headstone, looking for the voice. He could finally feel the wound on his hand as he unclenched his fist. Blood had dripped down the stone and pooled up at the bottom, drenching a bouquet of roses.

With his other hand he reached into his pocket and removed a handkerchief to wrap around the laceration. His crying had subdued into hiccups. The cold wind whipping about his face dried the tears and chafed the edges of his nose. He strung together a makeshift tourniquet, which lapped up the slower streaming blood. Then he looked up, and around, remembering he had heard a voice.

Her voice, incidentally. At first, he was the only one there. But he turned to look at the tree, standing just ahead to the left of the grave. The sight scared the hiccups right out of him. 

There she was, Jemma, leaning against the tree. Only, she didn’t look fully there, she glowed, a whitish-blue. She was wearing the dress they had buried her in. A dramatic red and black ensemble, far too theatrical for her taste but akin to English funerals. The dress lay still to her body. It didn’t flap up in the wind. Her hair remained at her shoulders, it too sans reaction to the weather. Her arms were bare. She did not look cold.

Fitz’ knees someone found the strength before his mind, and he was standing on his two feet. He had moved just a bit around the grave without realizing, led by her sight rather then sense.

“J-J…” Fitz could not speak.

“Hello, Fitz,” the apparition responded, daintily. 

Fitz rubbed his eyes with his uninjured hand. He thought he was seeing things. He has before.

“B-but you’re dead…” he stammered, realizing the specter was still there.

“Yes, Fitz, I am dead. But you said you would do anything to have me back, so I am here,” she replied.

His right leg shook, causing vibrations throughout his whole body. This had to be some kind of sick trick... some convoluted mind trick. The apparition stopped leaning on the tree, and closed the gap between her and Fitz. Her feet, clad in small heels, did not sink into the saturated dirt, or crunch on the leaves. She was right in front of him, but she also felt very much not there.

“You are dead, Jemma, you are dead. Please stop, please…” he whimpered, clenching his eyes shut.

“You said you would do anything to get me back. You have the opportunity to do anything. Don’t be afraid, Fitz, it’s okay, ask me what you would have to do,” she responded. Her voice felt like hers, but felt so distant. It was emotionless but commanding. Fitz waivered on her request, unsure if he should buy into this cruel joke someone was playing. His eyes remained shut. She couldn’t exist if he didn’t see her. Inside, his mind battled with itself. His direction to try and will her away fought with the pleasant memories. He didn’t want to loose the memories. He opened his eyes.

“What would I have to do?” he asked the apparition.

The specter smiled at him. She lifted a hand and settled it on his cheek. Fitz could sense it was there, but felt no warmth, no subtle pressure. 

He was crying again.

“The corpses of a thousand evil men,” the specter responded.

“The…what?” Fitz thought he misheard.

The specter removed her hand from Fitz’ face. 

“You must take the lives of a thousand evil men to bring me back. My life cannot be reclaimed without it, and you have one year to accomplish this. When you have succeeded, return here and you will find no grave. You will find that I never died, and no one will remember that I did. But, remember… a thousand evil men,” the specter explained.

The words did not soak in Fitz’ mind. The apparition of Jemma retreated backwards, towards the tree. Fitz watched. She blew a kiss before stepping backwards into the tree, dissolving upon her impact. Something shiny fell form where she had disappeared.

Still shocked at what he just saw, heard and experienced, Fitz took a moment before going over to the three. From where she had disappeared, lay a glimmering knife. Fitz picked it up by the handle, and observed the cold object.

On the cheek of the knife and inscription read, “To Fitz, Love Jemma.”

Gripping the handle in his wounded hand, Fitz absorbed the pain. Rage consumed him, and in his mind formed the plan for the next year. He would kill one thousand evil men, and he would kill the man responsible for her death with this very blade.

The first man on his list was Grant Ward. 

He was the man who had brought this pain. Ward was responsible for Jemma’s death. It was his bullet that struck her. His bullet was the one that had the blood on it. 

Marching away from the cemetery, Fitz got into his car, laying the knife on the passenger seat. He put the car into gear, and drove as fast as he could.

He laid low for most of the day, not answering calls and texts with pending messages about his whereabouts and if he was okay. At night, he ventured into his base, compiled an array of supplies, loaded up his car and was off again in the night. 

He drove all night until coming to a highly secured compound, parking the car a little down the road to avoid being found. He loaded himself up; removing the coat he had worn to visit Jemma’s grave and exchanging his dress shoes for boots. He fitted his body with ammunition, a fire starter, and the most high-powered advanced tech he had ever created. He holstered the knife close to his chest. 

Taking a large swig from a flask filled of whiskey; Fitz pocketed that too, and slammed the trunk of his car. He moved back into the front seat, turned the car around, and headed straight for the gates of the compound.

His foot was all the way on the pedal, when his car barreled through the front gates, setting the compound’s security into frenzy. He had taken down a few men in this move, and he could feel the numbers pop off in his head. 

While the car spiraled to the building, Fitz jumped from the vehicle, hitting the ground in a roll. He was on his feet a second later, and with a device tucked into the palm of his wounded hand, he clicked off an exploding device on the car as it impacted the building, taking out a huge chunk of the structure.

He didn’t have time to gloat over the fire, he drew on his weapon, and without fear or sanity defended himself on the closing in grunts. He fought his way into the compound, taking down each assailant as if he had done it a thousand times before. He reached a heavily guarded room, and knew that was where he would find that coward, Grant Ward. 

Taking down the guards as if possessed by Achilles, Fitz shot the lock off the door, and entered with the gun still drawn.

Ward was the only person in the room, leaning against a desk. A gun next to his hand. He seemed calm.

“I thought I would be seeing you soon,” he said, as if to make a joke about the circumstance.

Fitz said nothing, his finger itching to just pull the trigger already, but his seething anger telling him not to.

“Go ahead, do it. One time you said you wanted to be the hero so badly, but heroes never win, Fitz, look what happened to me,” Ward continued, still unconvinced Fitz could do it. Fitz knew this.

“Did I not just kill all of your men?” Fitz responded.

Fitz could see Ward’s fingers inch closer to the gun then curl around the handle. Just as Ward lifted it off the desk, Fitz gave in to his trigger finger, but landed a hit to the arm Ward had reached the gun with.

Ward recoiled, howling in pain, and dropped the gun.

Fitz bounded forward, sliding his gun back into its holster. He reached for the knife tucked safely at his heart, but came upon the flask first. He slowed his pace, drinking from the flask until he threw it at Ward’s feet before his arrival. Ward slid down the side of the desk to try and reach the gun he had fumbled.

Fitz was over him, kicking the gun out of Ward’s reach. He looked down at him. Fitz reached and slid the knife out from the holster on his chest. He brought the blade to his mouth and kissed it, never breaking his eye line with Ward. 

In the next moment, it was over. 

Ward was just another corpse to be counted. Fitz could not remember digging the knife in and out of him, but he knew he did it.

Before setting the building ablaze, Fitz counted the bodies. He etched the number into the handle of his gun. He would have to hit a few more Hydra bases. Lighting the building on fire made sure that the dead stayed dead. 

Over the course of the next year, Fitz led a one-man team into the fractured Hydra bases over the world. He developed his tech to guide his stealth, as immediate rage no longer guided his actions as perfectly the day he raided Ward’s structure.

In 365 days, he found himself back to where this began. 

He trudged through the gravestones, the memories returning with each marker he passed.

He headed to the hill with the tree atop it, his feet bounding the journey before his mind could process where he was going. He kept his head down, nervous with anticipation. Nervous because he had just killed a thousand evil men on the request of a ghost, and who knows if fulfilling such a prophecy would work.

His knees angled to climb the hill, and he found himself in the same spot as he was exactly a year ago. He took a moment to ready himself for the outcome. 

Fitz lifted his head, just enough to see if there was Jemma’s gravestone. In front of him remained an empty patch of grass.

Thrill began to wash over. He slid the knife Jemma had bestowed upon him and chucked the blade into the soil. It still had Grant Ward’s dried blood on it.

He had killed a thousand evil men.

A crunching noise startled Fitz, who turned to look at the tree. Its branches were bare like it had been last year. And underneath their barren appendages, stood Jemma Simmons.

She was not like the last time he had seen her. She was not an eerie blue-white color. The wind caused the dramatic dress she was in to flap in the wind. Her hair splashed around her face. She smiled at him.

“You did it!” she called to him.

Fitz ran the rest of the way there, pulling off his own coat to drape around her exposed shoulders. He held her at arms length, to look at her, to feel her. His body was rocked with insurmountable joy, and the way she smiled and laughed back at him. Standing there she dipped into the ground, her heels digging in to the soft soil. She steadied herself using Fitz’ body. 

Having both measured and taken in the sight of the other, that the other was real, the next immediate reaction was to kiss. 

Fitz enveloped Jemma tightly in his arms, his chest heaving with each moment his lips pressed against hers. He could feel her body shake in the cold, but it was a few minutes before they untangled themselves.

“Let’s get you somewhere warm, you’re alive… my God, you’re alive!” Fitz crowed.

He wrapped his arm across her shoulders, anchoring his coat around her. They walked hip to hip outside of the cemetery. 

Before reaching the gates, Jemma stopped. She turned to him, and for a moment Fitz thought she was about to deliver terrible news to him.

“When we leave this cemetery, we, too, will forget I ever died,” she announced. 

She held onto his hand and kissed him again, hoping to remember just an ounce of how precious it was to be alive and it was to be with him. 

“Ready?” he smirked.

She nodded. Holding hands, they exited the cemetery, and as they crossed through the gates, they were only left with a strange feeling that something peculiar had happened.


	11. Prompt Ten: Jump Street Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma and Fitz have to go undercover at a British high school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how British high schools work so don't kill me on this! This is part one!

Prompt Ten: Jump Street Part One

When Simmons and Fitz heard there was a mission in England, they beamed. Any downtime meant they could sneak in a visit to their families, something they didn’t get too much time to do. Most missions were based either in the United States or in countries where laws were more of a suggestion then an actual governing body. Simmons and Fitz were in, no matter what kind of mission it was.

That is, until they found out them being in the mission was the whole point. 

Amidst their protestations, Fitz and Simmons were going in the field.

Why? Because their accents were native to this region of the world and they both looked young. Especially Fitz. With proper make up and wardrobe, Fitz and Simmons could pass for high school students. And that's exactly the mission they needed to go on. 

Jemma had to wear braces, something she never thought she would have to put back in her mouth. The metal wires in her mouth gave her a lisp, and she could no longer prattle off at breakneck speeds. She smiled a lot less with them on.

Fitz was concerned because he had never attended public British schools. His mother had put him in a private school all the way up until SHIELD Academy, when he shipped away to the states. Public school... where the uniforms weren’t as strict and they had such less regard for education. Public school, where you got called out for being too smart. He heard the stories. He knew he would be fresh meat. 

Jemma had also never attended public school. Her parents ran a wealthy business, and it was tutors and homeschooling for much of her life. She outgrew her tutors very quickly, as all of them could not offer the answers Jemma needed. 

But here Fitz and Simmons were, backpacks stuffed with school supplies and hidden technology Fitz had designed. The mission was clear; to discover who has been recruiting students for Hydra right out of school. And how do they do it? Is it being done in other schools across England? The world? Corruption of youth was an easy thing to do, especially for a struggling teen or one with behavioral problems. Fitz and Simmons had to keep their nose under the radar to not raise flags at their snooping, but also needed to be in places where conversations like this could happen.

"And remember, don't show off in class," Coulson had said, as Fitz and Simmons sat in the back seat of Coulson's car. Coulson was getting a chance to play dad in this part. 

Being that Simmons was English and Fitz was Scottish, Coulson had Fitz on board as a foreign exchange student, because brother and sister wouldn't work and also to explain familial relations would be getting too personal.

Coulson pulled in front of the school. Students hung around the campus, playing soccer or skate boarding or standing in circles listening to music. They were a few weeks into the school year, so Fitz and Simmons could easily adjust.

Simmons was the first to get out of the car, she had prepared all week for her debut, but she was nervous. Teenagers could be so brutal. Coulson tasked her with being the social butterfly, which wasn’t a hard task for Jemma if she was talking to people about science. But she knew talking to kids about bioluminescence and Newton’s laws were futile, so she had Skye prep her in all things pop culture. Jemma learned the lyrics to One Direction songs and who was dating whom in celebrity culture. She learned about British soccer stars and their reality star wives.

 

Poor Fitz was tasked with a different way to infiltrate the school. He had to get on the soccer team.

Now, Fitz was actually quite good at soccer, but that was of course playing against his neighborhood mates. He had never been on a team as his scientific endeavors took up most of his time. When Fitz asked why he couldn’t instead join a robotics club or something like that, Coulson responded the Hydra wanted highly athletic individuals and they needed him to become friends with the British equivalent of jocks.

In the two weeks of mission preparation, Skye had brought up that Fitz and Simmons would climb their social ranks faster if they were in a relationship, and besides it would keep any of the other high school students from trying to pursue them (for the most part). So not only did Fitz have to get on the soccer team, he had pretend with Jemma that they were in a relationship.

Fitz believed he was doomed.

Simmons had been the first one out of the car and she stood at the curb waiting for Fitz to shuffle over and out. When Fitz stood up, Jemma reached for his hand, squeezing it tight. She could feel how tense he was, his shoulders were nearly at his neck.

"It's okay Fitz, uh, gosh I have to remember to call you by your undercover name," Jemma said softly to him. She offered Fitz a sympathetic glance. Fitz paid no attention to her, he stared at the large stone building ahead, as floods of other students walked towards the main doors. 

Coulson honked Lola's horn. "Have a great day at school, kids!" he called out with a wave.

"Coulson pretends to be our dad and already decides to embarrass us in the first five minutes," Fitz laughed nervously.

Fitz' undercover name was Connor Fleming, while Jemma's was Lily Devonshire. Fitz thought that using the surname Fleming would help him get into espionage mode, after all it is the surname of James Bond writer Iain Fleming. Jemma chose Lily because she loved the name from Harry Potter. She was trying to channel that characters spirit, and had gotten used to addressing herself with that name for the past week. She would also correct anyone who called her any differently. Fitz hadn't put as much thought in getting used to his name, and had to check his schedule to remember it fully.

Together, Fitz and Simmons walked down the pathway and into the school. Coulson had arranged it so they had three classes together, one in the morning, one midday, and one in the afternoon, that way they could trade notes on anything they found throughout the day, and have different circles of students to search through. Trotting around the halls they eventually came to their first class, and sat at one of the tables together. Not too many students had arrived yet, as there was still a minute or two before class started, so it relaxed them a bit that they could observe and absorb their surroundings. 

A group of students came in and immediately gave Fitz and Simmons a dirty look. Confused, the pair wondered why when they hadn't even done anything. Were they easy to see through? Did they not look the part or were acting strangely? The possibilities were endless. Fitz' palms got sweaty.

"You're in our seats," one of the kids in the group spoke up.

"Oh, I am truly sorry, do you know where we can sit where the seats aren't taken? We're new here," Jemma responded a bit too quickly. But nonetheless it worked. She had disarmed the bad blood between the group and Fitz and her.

"That's quite fine, shift over, we'll make room for you," another one said.

Jemma mentally sighed, the teenagers were already nicer then she suspected, a bit rough at first, but they meant well.

Jemma changed seats and pulled Fitz along with her.

"My name is Lily and this is Connor," Jemma introduced. Her hand wanted to jump out to offer a hand shake but she realized that was probably too formal for teenagers.

Fitz said nothing, but nearly slung back in his chair and nodded.

“I’m Sophia, this is Jack, Naomi and Finn,” the girl who had originally told them they were in their spots. 

“So, what brings you here,” Jack spoke up. He eyed Jemma in particular.

It was show time.

“My dad is an American in the army and got stationed here. Connor here is actually our exchange student from Scotland. So he goes where I go for a year, which is great considering we’re dating,” Jemma explained. All for the nervous laugh, she delivered on it.

“Your father let’s your boyfriend sleep under the same rood every night?” Jack inquired.

“He doesn’t know we’re dating,” Fitz spoke up, but he looked away, to the teacher’s desk. It was a move he saw Ward do constantly to appear more cool. Fitz hoped it was working.

“I can’t say I’m not jealous,” Finn said, he wrapped an arm around Naomi. 

“You’re dad is at the base then, is he away a lot?” Jack took over again. He had a very aggressive personality

“Oh yes, if he’s on duty he’s usually at the base for several days. We just moved in to a temporary house not too far,” Jemma answered. She was trying to see where they were getting at. 

“And you’re Mum? Is she home all the time?” Jack again.

Fitz sat up in the seat.

“Her Mum passed away some time ago,” he said.

Jack looked intrigued. Sophia gave him a concerning look.

“I know what you’re thinking, Jack,” Sophia said with a tone of contempt. 

Jemma and Fitz were fully vested in this. Jack had something about him that seemed dangerous.

“We can make you a lot of friends the next time your dad is off at the base, what would you say? Is he out this weekend?” Jack said coyly.

Jemma smiled, feeling a bit goofy with the braces, this was too perfect.

“Yes, he’s on duty all weekend. Are you suggesting what I think you are?” Jemma too, could play this game. She was hoping Fitz was on the same page as her.

“Well, it looks like we have ourselves a good banger this weekend,” Jack laughed, pulling in Finn and Sophia, who flanked him on the sides.

Before they could continue the conversation, the teacher walked in and class commenced.

When school let out, Coulson was back to pick the up. Jemma walked up to his window, gave him a very daughterly-like kiss on the forehead.

“How was school sweetheart, made any friends?” he laughed.

“Oh, we actually did. We’re going to hang out with them right now. We’ll meet back up later… at the house. Is that okay… Dad?” Jemma could barely keep a straight face at the words.

“Alright, you go have yourselves some fun, and don’t get into any trouble,” he warned.

Jemma leaned in close to him, “You would have made a great father, Coulson.”

Coulson returned a sad smile to her. He cranked Lola’s engine back on and sped away. Jemma walked back to the group, her hands clutching the straps of her backpack.

Jack and Fitz had talked about the soccer team. Jack and Finn were both on the boy’s team, while Naomi was on the girls. They were going to scrimmage against Fitz to see if he had what it takes to be a new forward for the team. When Fitz had told Jemma this during their afternoon class, she knew he was panicking.

It was a chance to hit the nail on the head. Jemma had gotten them the in with the cool kids, heck she had planned a party out with them five minutes into meeting them.

Luckily, Jemma did know that Coulson was flying back out to the Playground at night, so Fitz and Jemma had the run of the house serving as their home. 

“Your dad couldn’t possibly be anymore American,” Naomi said, watching Coulson’s car fade into the distance.

“Oh I know, he ships that thing all over the world,” Jemma responded. The best part was that she didn’t have to lie about it.

As a group they walked to one of the fields, where Fitz changed out of his uniform shoes with Jack, Finn and Naomi. Jemma took a seat with Sophia on the sidelines, while Fitz warmed up with the others. She stared at Fitz because he was sweating profusely and he had only done stretches. Poor Fitz, she thought.

“It’s very sweet the way you look at him, how long have you two been going out?” Sophia said. She had pulled out a notebook and was doing some course work.

Jemma took out her book too; all of the classes had been so easy that she had practically finished all of the work in her head. In fact, she struggled to stay awake in the classes.

“Oh… with Connor? Just two months, he’s been living with us for three,” Jemma replied.

“Only that long, you don’t seem to snog each other endlessly like other couples,” Sophia was very observant.

But she had a point; Jemma had noticed that teenagers in couples had hands all over each other all the time. She saw at least three couples get demerits for being a little too hands on or mouthy in the hallways. Fitz and her had stuck to holding hands. She thinks she may have even kissed his cheek at one point. She had to think quickly as an explanation.

“Well, I literally see him all the time as he lives with me, so I guess there’s not as much… urgency? Plus with my dad not home a lot our relationship progressed a lot faster then say seeing someone only in school and occasionally,” she quipped.

Sophia bought it.

Jack had brought out a soccer ball, and the testing of Fitz’ skills began. Jemma watched and realized it had been a few years since she saw him on a field, and running of all things. He played with a group of friends at the Academy, but that was the last time she remembered. He had been very good, but he was also playing with nothing on the line.

“May I ask what’s up with Jack?” Jemma said. Her mind had zeroed in on Jack because he had such a brash personality. He was testy with teachers, disregarded general authority, and, to be honest a bit of a bully.

“Oh, Jack is Jack. He hits the drugs a little too hard, in my opinion, but he means well. You’re lucky your taken otherwise you would have been prime target for him and he can get a bit insistent,” Sophia said, Jemma recognized that she was a gossiper. 

Jemma watched as Fitz out maneuvered Finn only for his shot on goal to be blocked by Noami. He was pulling his weight out there, doing well, as far as Jemma could tell.

The group played for a good half hour, Fitz came off the pitch with a smile from ear to ear. He was sweaty, but now because of the exercise and not the nerves. He sat next to her and Jemma found herself scooting up close to him, the subconscious words of Sophia ringing in her head that they weren’t as touchy as regular teenage couples.

“He’s bloody good, he’ll get a spot on the team for sure,” Jack said, clapping Fitz on the back.

“Thanks, man, you’re alright,” he responded. Fitz was adjusting himself to accommodate Jemma who had laid down on the grass and put her head on his lap. He hadn’t expected her to do something like this. She stared up at him and winked with a smile. He had to trust her, and not let the endorphins rush too fast.

“So, alright, the party on Friday night. We need to get the booze, the blazers and caps. I got you handled on the people, no frets Lil,” Jack said, quite jazzed up.

Jemma could see what he could mean.

“Well, I could get the alcohol,” Jemma said, she was biting her lip. She was going to supply alcohol to high school students; she was treading a very fine line here. And the fact that there were going to be drugs was even worse. What if anything happened to any of them, she wondered. She couldn’t bear to let anything happen. She figured she could chemically alter the alcohol so it wasn’t as strong as it would be, yet the kids still felt like they were getting trashed over it. Yes, that would have to do, she thought. She wondered if she should have Fitz booby trap the house so any kids taking too many drugs would have something bad happen to the drugs. Maybe a window would swing open and flush them down the toilet? She would have to see what Fitz was thinking about this. 

It was beginning to get dark, and Jemma thought that her and Fitz should be getting back to the house to plan out these things and compare their notes on what they learned about the students and teachers from their other classes. Plus, Jemma was going to have to remind Fitz to do his homework. She nudged him in the rib. 

“Ow, watch it,” he responded, rubbing a hand over the spot. He then patted Jemma on the head.

“We got to get back before my dad leaves,” Jemma urged.

“Oh, oh right,” he responded. Jemma pulled herself off his lap and gathered her books. 

“We’ll see you in the morning,” Fitz was already at his feet.

The group bid their good-byes, but not without one last remark from Jack.

“Make sure you’re stocked on condoms, mate!”

Fitz hoped Jemma hadn’t heard that embarrassing statement. But she did.

They walked back the few blocks to the house they had set up. Coulson, Skye, and May were waiting in the living room, like some sort of weird dysfunctional family. 

 

“So, how was your first day of school?” Skye said as they came through the door.

“Went quiet well actually,” Jemma responded, immediately taking out the braces. She rubbed her cheeks.

“Any leads?” May asked, cutting to the serious chat.

“There’s one bloke named Jack who is quite an odd fellow, a bit rowdy, mixed into some bad things. He’ll be on soccer with me so I’m sure I can get more information. He talked about the soccer coach running a tight conditioning ship, so I may want to look further into him as well,” Fitz said. 

Jemma nodded.

“Well, keep us posted, we’ll be back on Monday to discuss more. If your cover is blown, call us immediately,” Coulson said. He grabbed his briefcase and motioned for Skye and May to follow him out.

“Oh, and, dinner is in the fridge, kids,” Coulson added.

Skye hugged them good bye, commenting on Fitz’ stench. After they left he trotted up the stairs to shower while Jemma heated up her own dinner, Coulson had picked up several orders of Cheeky Nando’s to bring back, having heard that was all the rage in England at the moment. Jemma had to laugh at that sort of thing. Thankfully, he also stocked the fridge with a few beers.

Jemma had changed into loungewear and was digging into her plate when Fitz came back down, freshly showered, shaved, and wearing a t-shirt and sweats. Jemma saluted her beer at him.

He smiled and went and got his own meal and drink out of the fridge. They had been in the house for three days, preparing it with ‘homely’ touches. Skye had photoshopped family pictures of Jemma and Coulson, and there were even pictures of a woman in them, Jemma’s ‘mom.” There were a few American touches to reflect that Jemma was supposed to be half-American. There was a stocked pantry, a tea set that looked well used, and other classic British amenities.

Jemma and Fitz both had their own rooms, to which they got the chance to decorate them, as they would think their teenage personas would. Fitz had his favorite local Scottish soccer teams merchandise and Jemma went for a quaint, but still girly look, adding in a One Direction poster for good measure. 

“So what was that back on the field with you laying on me?” Fitz asked, taking a swig of his beer.

“Sophia had been telling me that we quite tame as a couple, she found it rather odd. Sorry to lay it on you like that but, we got to blend in with the cool kids yet fly under the radar, you know,” she said, her cheeks blushed.

“Oh right, yeah, those kids seem to snog each other’s faces off,” Fitz added. He hadn’t read into it as much as Jemma had.

Jemma’s fingers curled around the edge of her chair. She was nervous about what she was going to present to Fitz.

“Fitz, if we don’t commit to this, they are going to know something is up,” she began.

Fitz drank more of his beer and made a sound of accordance.

“And? We did a pretty great job of it today,” Fitz was rather slow on this.

“Yes, but these teens are more perceptive then I perceived. We have to-“ Jemma started, but was cut off by Fitz.

“Act more like a couple of teens in a relationship?” he finished her sentence.

“Yes,” Jemma confirmed.

“Well, that do you have in mind?” he was either blind about the conversation or was avoiding it.

“Sophia had brought it up to me that we didn’t seem very…very… well… like a couple. We need to display a little more then hand-holding, if you get what I mean,” the words barely made it out of Jemma’s mouth.

Fitz set his beer down, and swiveled in the barstool, as well as inching his plate a few inches inward on the counter. 

He leaned his elbow and forearm on the table.

“So, you’re telling me, we have replicate what we see the other teenagers doing?” he repeated.

Jemma nodded, looking down at her plate.

“Well, I don’t suppose some practice could hurt,” Fitz said, nonchalantly.

Jemma looked up at him, and before the words could fully register in her mind, Fitz had closed the gap, first with his hand on the side of her face, and then with his lips pulling her into a kiss. It began slow, with the sweetness of getting to know your partner, but soon developed into a more passionate one. Fitz stood up from his stool and leaned onto Jemma, her back supported by the counter. Fitz pushed the plate of food she was nearly dipping into aside. They were definitely beginning to mirror the rowdy teenagers, maybe even inspired by them.


	12. Prompt Ten Part Two: Jump Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second, and concluding part to the Jump Street prompt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So writing this today, I realized I hadn't actually thought of and ending... so if it feels rushed then... well... too bad!
> 
> Someone suggested that I should turn this in to a mini fic, and I really do like this idea, so maybe post-NaNo!

Prompt Ten Jump Street Part Two

Jemma felt a wave of heat burst from the back of her neck. Fitz was so good at this, she thought for a moment that maybe this wasn’t just practicing but him taking an actual interest in her.

But just as she was thinking this, Fitz pulled away, leaving Jemma to lean forward, in anticipation of more. He smiled at her, reached over her to grab his plate and beer and threw the container in the trash. While taking another sip swig of his drink, he ruffled Jemma’s hair with his other hand, leaving the kitchen area.

“I think we’ll be just fine, Lily,” Fitz stated. He thumped up the stairs. Jemma so badly wanted to follow. Her legs felt weak as she uncoiled them from clutching onto the stool for balance. She threw her own finished meal in the trash, downed her beer and opened another one.

She could hear the hum of the television turn on in Fitz’ room.

“Do your homework, Connor,” she called up to him.

She was thinking of something else he could do too, but, she wasn’t going to say that. That might weird him out. She sighed and surrendered herself to planning and scheming.

The next day Fitz and Jemma arrived to school just on time, trying to blend with the other students who rolled into classroom by the last bell. Walking through the hallways, Fitz kept his arm slunk around Jemma’s waist. She could feel him put pressure on her side to maneuver through the crowded hallway, she nestled herself snugly into his side. Even if it was pretend, it was still fun. 

Jemma’s job for the day was to get information on the teachers, since one of them were most likely a Hydra recruiter. She asked questions, but not on many questions to Sophia, who seemed to have the answers on anybody at the school. Jemma made a shortlist of teachers who would seem most likely, teachers who hadn’t been there long, or collected teacher’s pets. She would submit her information to Coulson later so he could cross-examine data and research their backgrounds. The difficult part was that Hydra could blend so well, they couldn’t chance being wrong.

 

After school, Fitz tried out for the team, with a lot more confidence then he had the day before. The coach adored him and he was a shoe in in the team. And then it was back to just sitting on the sidelines with Jack, Finn, Naomi, and a couple other of their soccer mates.

Fitz was on a roll, he had made fast friends with the guys and taking a page from seeing how the other boys were with their girlfriends, Fitz was, as Jemma would put it, rather cheeky. 

He nearly tackled her over, while she was already sitting down, when he left the soccer pitch. His arms clenched her tightly on her rib cage. She reacted, accordingly, not having expected him to be so rough with her. But as soon as she got her bearings, she tilted her head up towards him and kissed him on his jawline. He was looking outward to his new soccer buddies, but as soon as she kissed him, he looked down at her and reciprocated. It was almost like they were playing domestic, but with a lot more sexual charge.

And Jemma was completely okay with that.

Except, that she knew it was pretend. It had to be, Fitz hadn't made it any clearer. He was having fun with it because... well... he was outside of the lab and getting to run around and make friends, even if only temporary.

And that was good. Jemma could make it through this; she just had to contain herself a bit more. He made it very difficult with his hands sliding up and down her back as he kissed her, that's for sure. She had come prepared, but evidently not as much as she thought.

Jack had already made most of the party plans, in fact, all Jemma and Fitz had to do was open the door whenever the doorbell rang. And of course, as Jemma had promise, supply the booze. The previous night she had worked out how to mess up the alcoholic properties so that no kid could get too drunk but think they were. Fitz had taken Jemma's idea of monitoring drug use too, but he had forgotten to do his homework in that case and received a demerit from it. She teased him about this when they were alone, that he would have never missed homework if it were the Academy.

On Friday, Jemma and Fitz’ party was the talk of the school. Hearing whisperings in the hallways about this was new to Jemma, and she began to feel the pressure of having a good party. If they didn’t, she could see that they would tank in social status, and burn out there ends on finding the Hydra recruiters. Simmons just had to remember that the mission was more important, and she needed to fully commit to the part. 

 

After school, Fitz and Simmons didn’t hang about, but instead went back to the house early to make sure anything SHIELD related was completely out of sight and unable to be found. With Fitz’ technology, it was simple, but they had to make sure nothing could be found. Jemma locked her and Fitz’ rooms up. 

Fitz set up an entertainment system and rigged a few lights, nothing too crazy to show that he was a genius, but nothing a precocious teenager couldn’t rig together. The house was clean, still looked homely. Jemma had went out and bought a ton of beer and some cheaper alcohols. She added some of the chemical concoction she had whipped up to the supplies, and hoped that the kids coming to their house would drink the free alcohol first rather then the alcohol they might be bringing. All Simmons needed was some poor kid getting hurt, or too drunk, or making poor decisions and then the police showing up at their door. She was tense, and as she arranged the beer cans the twelfth time, Fitz came bounding down the stairs. He was relaxed.

He came up from behind Jemma, and slunk his arms over her shoulders, pulling her into a hug, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Relax, Jemma, nothing bad will happen to the kids, we got to enjoy ourselves a bit, too, you know,” he said looking at her can arrangement. They were too perfectly stacked. 

Fitz twirled around her, and began to mess up her pile.

“We’re cool now, yeah?” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m going go shower and get ready,” Jemma said, she smiled back to him.

The party started around ten. Jemma, still on the rigid side of things, was forced to take a shot on the behest of Fitz. She was wearing a short sparkly dress with tights, heels, a faux set of pearls with multiple lines, and a little too much make up. Fitz said the alcohol would chill her out, when she took her second shot she began to believe in it.

The music was good and people were dancing. Jack had delivered on getting the people there, and they were enjoying themselves. Jemma had seen him hit on at least three of the girls there, and when it looked like he was about to cross a line, Jemma would inch closer, in case she needed to rescue one of the girls. She didn’t trust him.

Fitz was managing the party quite well. He floated from group to group, making loud jokes with his new soccer buddies and thanking people in a characteristic manner for coming. He was an ideal host. The last Jemma saw of him was he and Jack climbing the steps. She was left alone for an hour, and while she had been worrying about the kids getting too drunk, here she was knocking back a fifth and sixth shot. Granted they were softened up, but still enough of them would do the deed, Jemma was a lightweight. 

Fitz and Jack eventually came back down, Fitz looking rather pleased with himself. Jack busied himself going on the mend with another girl. 

Fitz located Jemma, and noticed she was in a bit of a rough shape. She certainly had gotten drunk. Stumbling as she danced with her ginormous heels. Like any good, pretend boyfriend, he scooped her up in his arms, matching her swaying. 

“I have some good news,” Fitz said into her ear. He was positive she would only remember half of this the next day.

“What?” she hung off him like a rag doll, her eyes reddened, and an effervescent smile glued to her face. She nuzzled her nose into his cheek, and Fitz felt weakened.

“I got through to Jack, he’s know the recruiter,” Fitz whispered.

Jemma clutched onto both of his shoulders in excitement.

“That’s positively splendid news!” she squeaked. Then, like any good fictitious girlfriend, pulled Fitz into a kiss. Fitz could hear the cheers from Naomi and Finn who weren’t dancing too far off.

Fitz enjoyed the kiss for sometime before wondering if maybe he should stop since Jemma wasn’t exactly sober. But every time he pulled back, she pushed forward, eventually getting him to a wall.

“No wonder why they’re not snogging in the halls all day when they can do this all night,” Jack’s voice rang out form somewhere nearby. 

Fitz put his hands gently on the sides of her face, and disconnected them. He looked deeply into her eyes, to see if there was a shred of sobriety in her.

“Lily, I don’t want you to feel you need to do this,” he said softly, and he meant it. Because he enjoyed kissing her and he wanted more, but if she was drunk it was definitely off bounds.

“Fitz,” she said back, softly so only he could here. She knew she was using his name and not his undercover one.

“I genuinely really like you,” she carefully enunciated her words. Her eyes were focused, she was sincere. 

“Alright, I need a drink,” Fitz smiled back at her. He wasn’t going to pull any fast moves or anything, but he would have to ask her tomorrow about this because it was eating him up inside. 

She led him gently by hand to the kitchen area where she got out a beer for him and one for herself. She leaned against the counter, and Fitz leaned next to her. They watched the party. Everything was going better then planned. They had been given the chance to live an alternative life for a short period, and the fact that Fitz had cracked the mission so fast, made Jemma a bit sad that it would be coming to an end. She wondered how they would come out of this. He wanted nothing more than to be alone with her.

“I meant what I said before,” Jemma turned to look up at Fitz. She didn’t have the crazy look in her eyes that she had when she was dancing.

“And I think I’ve been infatuated with you for a good time now, and I just don’t want things to be awkward or different when this ends,” she added with clarity.

Fitz reached and held her hand, and gave her a squeeze.

“I couldn’t go back to being just best friends after this week,” he said. And for a moment there was a syncopated peace between them. 

Until a crash upstairs alerted both Fitz and Jemma. Fitz was rocketing out of the kitchen and up the stairs with Jemma flinging herself through the crowd behind him. The door to Fitz’ room was cracked open, and Fitz began swearing to Jemma that he had locked it up after talking with Jack. He wasn’t sure if he what he would be walking into.

But it ended up being bad.

Jack was flinging open Fitz’ drawers.

“I know who you are!” Jack bellowed, tossing clothes all over the room.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up!” Fitz said, trying to get in control of the situation. Jemma followed into the room as well, she could tell Naomi, Finn and Sophia were all right behind her as well. Jemma had her hands on her phone, ready to call Coulson in case things took a downturn. She knew Fitz and her would be in big trouble.

“Jack, knock it off, mate,” Finn called, coming in to try and hold back Jack.

“I’ve never seen him this crazy,” Sophia added. She added something that she had seen him take drugs earlier.

“You want to be recruited? I know what they do to people who get picked,” Jack’s shouts had turned into a half sob, it was a strange sound.

“What, what? What are you getting at?” Fitz was confused. Jack sat with a great force onto Fitz’ bed, he put his head in his hands.

Everyone stood in the room, confused.

“What do you mean, Jack?” Finn prodded.

Jemma had never felt so sober in her life. 

“He’ll recruit you and ship you off to some training camp. Six months in and you’ll be dead, as they don’t give a shit about you, man,” Jack was still sobbing.

“Who?” Jemma probed.

“Coach! He didn’t tell you? Your boyfriend didn’t tell you what he wants to do? Connor, man, you’re a real wanker,” Jack spat back. 

Jemma looked at Fitz with concern. Jack’s emotional temperament was easy to work off of. Fitz looked back at her with high arched brows, as if he had been accused of something. He caught on, too.

“Connor…?” Jemma said, egging Fitz to deliver.

Fitz stepped up to Jemma. 

“I should have told you,” Fitz was nailing it, Jemma bit her lip to force her not to smile in delight.

“There’s a group, called Hydra-,” Fitz began, trying to not make the scene so dramatic.

“That…that… Nazi group?!” Jemma pretended to flip out. The whole world knew about Hydra after the fall of SHIELD, so it wasn’t that outlandish to say.

She could hear a gasp form Sophia.

“The soccer coach is the recruiter,” Jack said.

“Yeah, he tries to get every guy on the team, he’s won a few over,” Finn piped up from the back.

Jemma had long prepared for a moment like this. Their mission was done.

“Party is over, everyone OUT!” she yelled. She pinched Fitz’ side so he knew to play along. Jemma rushed out of the room and sprinted down the stairs. She dismantled the music, and began shooing people out, knocking drinks out of their hands. Fitz, and the rest of them followed down. 

As Jemma cleared the house out, Fitz stood there watching, acting disgraced. 

“Mate, you got to make up to her tonight,” Finn said with an apologetic tone as he gathered Naomi and Sophia to leave. Fitz gave him back an appreciative look. 

Jack was the last one to leave; he clapped Fitz on the back.

“You need to rethink your choices man,” he was still crying. 

And then it was just Fitz and Simmons, standing in the center of the room. 

“I’ll race you upstairs,” Jemma said coyly. Fitz never moved so fast in his life.


	13. Prompt Eleven: The Body Farm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma drags Fitz to a Body Farm, but while Fitz tries to play it off cool, he is not okay with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had such a different plan for this prompt and then...sadly... I forgot it. So I got stuck. And then last nights GLORIOUS episode happened with the *spoiler* kiss and well, I couldn't help myself going into fluff land....
> 
> And now I just want to write fluff or smut.
> 
> Are you all okay with a little smut? This one doesn't have any, but, just wanted to see how cool you are with that since I don't have the proper tags then on these.

Prompt Eleven: Body farm

Fitz could smell it before they even neared it. The rotting flesh stench soaked the air, and it was no wonder why this place was in such a secluded area. Pulling into the grounds, the facility had plenty of parking spots, there were more dead people here then alive. Most of the vehicles here were from mortuaries, so there were a lot of medical examiner trucks, with their resounding town or municipality plastered on the side.

Every few weeks Jemma would come out here, by herself, to record data and leave. Coulson intermittently loaned her the recovered dead bodies of Inhumans to examine if there were any decomposition anomalies. The bodies were all admitted at John or Jane Doe’s, so the on site scientists wouldn’t get suspicious of what Jemma was actually dealing with. They would collect the basic detail for her every day, as well as take pictures.

Jemma had made the case that observing and researching dead Inhumans could be helpful to saving them. Inhumans varied so greatly that she wasn’t sure of her own capabilities in treating them. She wondered if they would react the same way to human viruses and diseases. If a bullet in an Inhuman body should be treated the same way if it punches a hole in the flesh of a human. She knew that Inhumans could have superior healing properties, but it wouldn’t be all of them. The data on Lash being impervious to bullets was what sparked this idea.

As the car parked, Jemma gathered her briefcase and Fitz reached for a medical mask to help combat the offensive smell. He had been used to the smell of a dead body, but hundreds? There was nothing worse then that, well, maybe the dead cat liver she had put in the fridge next to his lunch that one time.

“I think it would be rather interesting to see if Terrigenesis worked on pigs, I mean, I wouldn’t kill pigs for the sake of killing them, but pigs, and monkeys, share a lot of similarities with us, so you never know what potential could be there,” Jemma explained. She said this because on top of rotting corpses, there were also rotting pig corpses, since their tissue was so similar to humans.

Fitz was flummoxed onto how Jemma could stand the smell. She didn’t have her mask on; instead it hung around her neck. She led Fitz into the facility to check in, Fitz followed. It was the first time he was making this trip with her, he now regretted signing up.

“Hello, Dr. Simmons,” the man at the front desk said with a thick Southern accent.. He was cheerful and the fact that he remembered Jemma meant that she was well liked here, that wasn’t hard to see as she was well liked every where she went.

“Hi Louis, how is your wife?” Jemma responded. They chatted colloquially for a few moments.

“This here is my associate, Dr. Leo Fitz, who will be assisting me today, Fitz hand over your license,” Jemma said. Fitz pulled his wallet out and complied with the instructions.

“First time at a body farm?” Louis asked, nodding to Fitz already wearing the mask.

“Yes, and this is the oddest date I’ve ever been on,” Fitz said, although it was hard to hear with the mask, of course.

In the few weeks that Fitz and Simmons had been dating, he had to make it a point to nearly everyone he met to point out that they were now, officially, romantically linked. It wasn’t a matter of possessiveness, although it certainly could be read that way, but it was more because Fitz still couldn’t believe it himself. They were still researching how to recreate and open the portal, so his fear really was anchored in there that Jemma would leave if Will were to come back in the picture.

They had a long discussion about that, Jemma assured him her heart was where it was supposed to be. It helped, but Fitz was insecure still, and shouting their relationship into the world helped build up that confidence. 

Louis supplied the pair with their visitor’s badges and passed her the keys to a golf cart, and a map. The body farm was on acres and acres of land, and they would most certainly not want to walk all the way to Jemma’s corner, especially in the awful Georgia humidity.

As they climbed into the golf cart, Jemma prattled on and on about the different variables and how there were different buildings with temperature controls, water controls, chemical controls. Anything you could think of. Her excitement about it being the most prestigious body farm in the world was a bit jarring. Her enthusiasm for dead bodies was unparalleled.

“So is there anything abnormal popping up in your data?” Fitz murmured. Jemma could not understand him.

Jemma asked him to remove the mask to speak. Taking a gasp of air, Fitz repeated sans masks, and without breathing without the mask. She rolled her eyes at this, but divulged into the information at hand. Nothing yet spectacular had shown up, except for maybe the coloration of skin. On her plot of land she had three Inhuman bodies and an additional three human bodies who did not possess the genes. 

Dead bodies didn’t gross Jemma out. The only time they really upset her was if they belonged to someone she had known. It was always sad when someone died, but if you didn’t have a personal connection, Jemma had learned she needed to put emotions away to deal with it. She couldn’t help people if she was sad.

The first time she went to a body farm was the one at the Academy, two weeks into her first semester there. She remembers the professor, Professor Blight, who stood in front of a dead body while the students covered their noses and peeked through their fingers to look.

Professor Blight stood firmly and instructed everyone to remove their hands and get used to the smell because they would become very familiar to the smell of decomposition. Initially the worst thing Jemma found wasn’t the smell, but the putrid colors the human body turned in various states of rot. She guessed it disturbed her because of the way the body would first bloat, then decompress, the skin tightening and reminding her of stretched leather. It was strange to look at dead body, to think it was once a purpose. But Jemma would do anything for science.

“I feel like I need ten showers already,” Fitz had pulled off the mask this time to speak. Jemma rolled her eyes and continued driving on.

She pulled the gold cart up to a quiet patch of wooded land. She dug rubber gloves from the briefcase and handed Fitz a pair. She pulled up her own mask, and put safety goggles on as well. She would be poking at a couple of bodies today, and sometime gases would get trapped in the body. They make for a nasty mess if there is an explosion. She knew that would scar Fitz. There was to be little talking during the data collection point.

Jemma walked confidentially through an opening of some trees and Fitz followed in tow, hesitantly.

The first body was one of the humans. While she knew where all the placements were of the bodies it was helpful that the toe tags were color coordinated. This body had a lot of flies around it, as it was one of the fresher bodies she had brought to the farm. She thought how lucky Fitz was that he didn’t see it when it was maggot infested, he certainly would have thrown up inside his mask.

As the body came in to site, she could hear Fitz groan.

Jemma set her case down a few feet from the body and took out a notebook and a fancy looking gadget. Fitz and her had concocted a device that she had implanted in the bodies to record data throughout the week. She would sync up the device every week with her records. It cut out a lot of the dirty, grunt work. She still liked to manually prod at the body, too, some things she just needed to see for herself.

Two of the human bodies she had on her plot of land had died from natural causes, a third had died from a gunshot. All three of these humans had previously donated their bodies to science. The Inhumans had all died from unnatural causes. Two of them had been from Lash, Andrew when he had been around hunting Inhumans, and the third had died from a gunshot wound. It made her job a little difficult because she didn’t have an Inhuman who had died of natural causes, it removed the one constant she needed. She couldn’t let it hold back her work. People’s lives may depend on the work she was doing here.

Jemma crouched beside the body, and observed it for a good minute before syncing up her device. She had to hold the device there for a while for it to get a good reading, and when it was finished she looked over the results. Things like the temperature and what the weather had been like since she last checked up on the body. The device also estimated the rate of decomposition of the organs, but Jemma always liked to take a peek for herself, make sure the device’s reading was accurate.

After glancing at the device, Jemma set it aside and grabbed prongs. This is where things got messy. She looked back at Fitz who was a pastier then normal. Jemma laughed to herself. He was not going to enjoy this one bit.

Jemma used the prongs to probe the corpse. When she inserted it through the skin, a noise reminiscent of flatulence occurred. Jemma could hear Fitz footsteps run in the opposite direction, she was pretty sure to vomit. In Europe, and the rest of the world, body farms didn’t exist; they were only here in the States.

Jemma removed her mask for a moment and called Fitz back. She didn’t want him to be uncomfortable for too long, so she would have to hurry up. She moved on to processing the next body and then the next. She finished by taking pictures of all the bodies.  
When Jemma gave Fitz the thumbs up that she was done, he booked it to the golf cart, tossing the gloves in the trashcan that was on the way. Jemma followed in pursuit, knowing how anxious he was to leave. They drove back to the facility to collect their licenses and also the paperwork the facility had collected for Jemma throughout the week. 

Fitz also spent ample time in the bathroom washing and rewashing his hands. He hadn’t even touched a body. Jemma did the standard doctor wash and knew she’d be fine. He raced back to the car and cranked on the air condition. Jemma couldn’t drive fast enough back to the Zephyr One, apparently. He hadn’t talked much on the plane ride and still hadn’t regained the color in his face.

It didn’t take long before they were back on the Playground, and Fitz immediately bounded to take a shower, not stopping to say hello to anyone once entering the base. 

Jemma snuck into the bathroom and sat on the toilet cover. She could hear Fitz humming to himself.

“Fitz,” she said delicately, but loudly enough that her voice carried over the sound of rushing water.

He banged a limb into the tiled wall.

“Jemma – what--,” Fitz stammered, surprised she was there. He poked his head out from the side of the curtain. Water dripped from his nose and chin on to the bathroom floor.

“I wanted to know if you were okay, you seemed very repulsed about the body farm,” Jemma said.

Fitz pulled his head back in the shower.

“Yeah, you no, just not my sort of thing,” he said. But it didn’t have a lot of conviction in his voice.

 

“I’m coming in there,” Jemma announced, lifting off the toilet seat.

“Eh, what?” Fitz sounded flabbergasted again.

“It’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked, Fitz,” Jemma used her all too familiar impatient tone on Fitz. She slid off her jeans and shirt and her underwear and pulled the shower curtain slightly back to jump in. Fitz took a step back. The relationship was so new for him that sometimes he forgot that they weren’t just best friends.

He made space for her under the showerhead, she stood in front and close to him, simply staring up at him. He didn’t just feel naked in the physical sense, but felt very emotionally unguarded as well.

She placed a hand on his cheek.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she added, with her hand lightly brushing up and down his cheek.

Fitz looked down at his feet for a moment and then back at her.

“I just don’t like seeing dead people, I’ve seen too many people I know dead and for Christ’s sakes I knew there was the chance that you could be dead at one point… it just gave me such a weird, unpleasant feeling,” he spoke rapidly.

Jemma ran her hands through his hair, and popped up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his forehead. She was so desensitized to dead bodies that she sometimes forget what they actually were. Fitz responded by wrapping his arms around her and resting his head on top of hers. It was his way of saying thanks, just thanks for being there. Some days he’d wake up and for just a moment not remember that she was here and alive. And the body farm reminded him of that. He stayed with her in his arms for quite some time until Jemma shifted, slinking out. 

Fitz smiled at her reassuringly. She returned it, warmly. She learned that she couldn’t drag him there again, that kind of place isn’t for everyone. And that science can’t always explain how people react or see things. 

“Thanks for that,” he said. 

“Of course. Pass the shampoo,” Jemma laughed, pointing with her chin to the bottle above his shoulder behind him. Fitz broke out in a laugh too. Jemma pressed a finger to his lips, her eyes wide.

“Sh! We can’t get caught in here, remember when Hunter caught us two weeks ago?” she huffed.

Fitz motioned for her to turn around. He clicked open the lid and poured a heaping amount of shampoo onto her hair, having no idea how much women actually put. Jemma could feel it.

“Oh my gosh, Fitz!” Jemma exclaimed cheerfully. She could tell the amount by the weight, and could feel it saturate her hair as he worked it into her scalp.

She turned back around to face him, her face full of suds. Fitz couldn’t help but laugh again.

“Not cool!” she feigned frustration and began piling the excess shampoo onto his head. They both lost themselves in wild laughter. That is, until there was a knock on the door.

“Not in the bloody shower!” Hunter’s brash voice sailed through.

Fitz and Simmons looked at each other in silence for a moment, biting their lips. Much to Hunter’s dismay, they burst out in laughter again.


	14. Prompt Twelve: Coulson has 'The Chat'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson realizes his base is now full of couples, or forming couples. He needs to get something across to all the young lovers out there...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Fitz and Simmons are in this, but equally as much as everyone else. I just thought the premise of Coulson having the birds and the bees talk with them was funny. And the fact that he would probably liken it to Captain America... all too Coulson.
> 
> Quick Note: Tomorrow I am binging Jessica Jones so I don't know if I will get too much writing completed!

Prompt Twelve: Story time with Coulson (Coulson tells Fitzsimmons and the gang about Cap and Peggy)

Coulson wasn’t blind to the truth and what was happening at the Playground but he often had to make the decision to ignore it. But now, with two more couples forming on the base, it was about time to have the talk. And of course, Mack had given it to himself anyway.

Coulson called a meeting for Fitz, Simmons, Daisy, Lincoln, and Hunter and Bobbi in the recreation room. He supplied snacks, baked cookies, and of course, had gone on a beer (and juice) run to accommodate everyone’s needs.

Coulson time and time again had to deliver bad news to these people, but by far this was going to be the roughest discussion he would ever have. Luckily, Coulson was a smart and clever man, and reached into his pockets to use one of the greatest stories ever told to talk about one of the most difficult topics. Essentially, he was giving the birds and the bees talk with adults. Coulson thought he would be saved of delivering this speech as he had no children of his own, or so he thought.

His agents filed in promptly on time, knowing how Coulson liked to work on schedule whenever possible.

“Party night?” Daisy exclaimed excitedly noticing the décor and food.

Jemma ribbed her, “he spent all day baking, and he ruined my pot holders.” 

“Come, come, make yourselves comfortable,” Coulson said, shepherding them in to seats. Lincoln was hesitant, not sure what kind of SHIELD meeting this was. He eyed Coulson nervously.

“It’s been so long since we actually all hung out like this!” Daisy said, there was a hint of sadness tinged in her voice.

Daisy recalled that the last time they hung out when they used to play board games. She internally argued that they did hang out after Tripp died, but it was more of a downer then anything.

Fitz busied himself pulling together a plate of snacks; he pulled extra because Jemma would steal his food anyway. At least they liked different beers. Hunter went straight for the beer, commending Coulson on his selection of British beers. 

Once everyone was happily munching or sipping (in Hunter’s case guzzling) away at their provisions, Coulson stood in front of the group, leaned against the table, and folded his arms.

“Can anyone tell me what you all have in common?” Coulson sighed.

Jemma’s hand shot up, as her mouth was full with snacks she stole off Fitz’ plate. Coulson looked around at everyone before nodding Jemma to explain. She swallowed the last thing she had been chewing and cleared her throat.

“We’re all agents!” She said excitedly, looking over to Lincoln.

“It is not as obvious as that,” Coulson responded, letting Jemma down. He continued to grill the group, who were all silent, except for the eating.

“Well, since no one else is taking a stab at it, I’ll be very frank with this. And before you say anything in protest… just don’t. Hunter, Bobbi, you are an ex married couple who are back to being a couple. Daisy, you left your com on when you kissed Lincoln, we all know. Simmons, Fitz, the security department likes to gossip… so we know what happened in the lab. Realizing we are a hairline away from a potential human resources nightmare as brought to me by Mack, who was concerned about my own relations with Rosalind, I have to talk with all of you about SHIELD protocol. Since I don’t want to bore you with a retelling of this section of the SHIELD handbook, I thought I would impart with you wisdom from SHIELD history,” Coulson spoke. He received nervous glances from everyone sitting before him.

“Oh bloody hell, we are adults, Sir,” Hunter put his head in his hands. His beer bottle wedged in between his knees.

“Yes, but I need to ensure that while during missions, your full dedication is on the task at hand and not putting your respective other in front of that,” Coulson said.

He lifted from the table, and walked a few steps in one direction, his head bent to the floor in a display of deep thought. Coulson was preparing himself for this. These were technically his kids.

"One of SHIELD's founding members as you may know, is Peggy Carter. She founded this organization with Tony Stark's father, Howard, and Colonel Chester Philips. They fought hard together during World War II in the European theater alongside Captain America. Carter, Stark and Philips all knew Steve Rogers before he was given the super serum. Carter and Steve developed a close friendship that would climax to romantic interest right before Rogers was presumed to be killed. Both Carter and Philips confirm this. Agent Carter, did not let her feelings for Rogers in any way, shape or form come in the way of her involvement with the SSR. She never compromised her job for Rogers, and the same went for Rogers. SHIELD isn't just a convenient way of saying Strategic Homeland Intelligence Enforcement and Logistics Division, no, Carter named it in memory of Rogers and what he stood for. I want you all to remember this story, because while their story ended in tragedy, they didn't compromise their job in bringing down the Red Skull and that iteration of Hydra. We are facing a world similar to the world these people endured, and while there aren't imminent threats and catastrophes like the second World War, we have very large problems, one being the resurgence of Hydra. In order for us to take down this organization for once and for all, I need my agents to be on their best behavior. I need you to work and think of your own lives later. You have answered the call of SHIELD. If anyone of you feel that you cannot handle both, please talk to me and I will arrange a different position for you. But let it be known I will not let you compromise our missions and the lives of your peers. SHIELD needs you first, and I hope you all behave in that manner. Now, secondly, the rules of the Playground remain intact. Remember there are cameras all over and you are never truly out of the eye of surveillance here. So, be wary if your relationships have taken the next step or look to take the next step. Any other company would not allow relationships within its walls, but I understand that SHIELD is the entirety of ours lives and is all we come to know. Our circles are small, so dating other SHIELD agents is quite common. Another caveat, if your romantic relationships do not pan out, please see me as well. I can’t have two agents hating each other work side by side if I deem emotions will get in the way,” Coulson recited, all while not looking at any one of them.

There was complete silence in the room, not even the sound of eating. Coulson turned to look at the group, who quite frankly looked stunned. Everyone was frozen, especially Simmons and Fitz. Daisy’s bottom jaw moved as if she was about to say something, but she quickly closed her mouth and looked down at the floor and then at Lincoln. Coulson would need to follow up with something to hopefully lighten up the room. He had also prepped a speech about sexual encounters, but he scrapped that upon seeing the flabbergasted responses. He hoped his warning about the surveillance all over the base would knock some sense in to them not to be reckless. They were after all younger adults, and he didn’t want any mistakes being made under his roof. ‘What could I do?’ Coulson wondered. ‘Ground them?’ he answered in his head. It made him chuckle which caused a second wave of confusion throughout the room, he had to cover it up. He reached for the first thing to pop in his mind.

“And, Jemma, Fitz… about damn time,” Coulson added.

That was the trick. While it nearly mortified Fitz and Simmons to the point where there faces each turned red and they looked away from each other, Daisy leapt from the couch.

“Oh my god, FINALLY!” she screeched, startling everyone with her enthusiasm. Hunter made an accompanying whooping noise. 

“Thanks, Sir,” Jemma said with a flat voice.

“I need to know the details,” Daisy added, wedging herself in between Fitz and Simmons and extending her arms behind both of them on the couch.

“You really don’t,” Fitz said. Jemma nodded in agreement.

“Coulson, how did you know about Peggy and Captain America?” Bobbi asked. She took all this very calmly.

Coulson looked at her, happy that she was the most level headed out of them all.

“I had my suspect about their relationship and when I was recruited to SHIELD and worked with Fury, I also got a chance at working with Ms. Carter before her retirement,” Coulson said.

“What was she like?” Jemma’s mood completely changed, her face lit up with the fact that Coulson knew Peggy Carter, one of her idols. 

“Let me tell you this, she is terrifying, could beat any one of us up and the most classy, intelligent woman I’ve ever met. And you know what else, she liked Rogers before the super soldier serum,” Coulson said proudly.

Jemma ogled at this information. It took her mind off for a second the complications of her and Fitz friendship…relationship? They had been dancing around it for thee past few days, trying to act as if everything was still normal. Daisy kept nudging Fitz and Simmons to talk in anticipation. 

“Daisy, Fitz and I have a lot to work out, right now, should I ask how you and Lincoln are doing?” Jemma said, setting Daisy straight. She pouted in response, and went back to her own seat. 

“So, you all understand?” Coulson ask for confirmation.

The group sullenly nodded their heads and mumbled affirmations.

 

“Good, now enjoy yourselves, but not too much,” Coulson quipped, exiting the room.

He sighed to himself, hoping the message had gotten through. “Those kids.”


	15. Prompt Thirteen: Bonnie and Clyde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prequel to the events in Chapter 9's prompt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This serves as a prequel to Chapter 9's prompt, the Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge.
> 
> Wasn't going to do a prequel originally, but Agentsofsuperwholocked had sent me a very sweet comment and then I couldn't get it out of my mind.
> 
> I wrote this with 2 MCR songs in mind: Early Sunsets Over Monroeville and Demolition Lovers, in case you wanted a recommendation of listening material.

Prompt 13: Bonnie and Clyde

In the final desperate moment, Fitz turned to Jemma, squeezing his hand in hers. She smiled, but her mind was caught on the Icer gun in her other hand. She only had a few shots left, and the number of people they needed to take down, far exceeded what was in the chamber.

“We’ll make it out alive, like we always do,” Fitz said to try and comfort. He wasn’t as confident in the words as he sounded. Jemma leaned over, removing her hand from his to slip around his neck. He could feel the dampness of fresh blood on her hand, but he didn't care. He fell into her kiss, heightened by the tense surrounding they were in. The gunfire had stopped, but their ears were still ringing. They behind their cover; knowing they would be safe for only a few moments more as their enemies regrouped. 

The desert heart caused the blood to congeal. Their sweat smudged it across their skin. 

Pulling away from the kiss, Jemma entertained the sad thought that this would probably be the last time she would get the chance to kiss him. She moved the back of her hand across her forehead, wiping away blood slowly forming at her scalp line. Fitz had a gash similar to hers, situated on his temple. They were a bloody mess together.

In the moments before wheeling around the trunk of their car to return fire, both of their chests heaved intensely. The smell of gunpowder hung in the air.

For Jemma, she had thought about death so much it was already a memory to her. That kind of thought crossed her mind on dozens of occasions. Her Will and testament spelled out everything she wanted if she were to die. It was simple stuff mostly. Where she would be buried, what she would like to be wearing…. She had seen it so many times in her mind that it was practically a reality. It was the last thing she carried into battle. 

Fitz and her had been in this kind of jam before and gotten out. But usually, there was some other factor. In different times they had more ammunition, there was a window to jump out of, or there was a fire extinguisher nearby. But they were up against the trunk of their bullet ridden car, there was no more ammunition in it. Their tires were shot out from the last battle. There were no more Icer grenades. They had exhausted every last measure. Yet, more people were coming. And they were coming with guns loaded.

“If we go out, we go out in a blaze. Because I’d rather die with you in a hail of gunfire then die old and alone,” Jemma said.

“It’s not going to happen that way,” Fitz tried to reassure her again. He looked away, hearing the sound of approaching vehicles. It was nearly time. The ground softly shook upon the approach, and tires wailed as the brakes were pulled. Doors could be heard opening, but not closing. The bottom of boots and shoes slapping on the ground as the people they belong to got into position. There were muffled commands being shouted out by a familiar voice.

Jemma clenched her eyes shut. Her hands were shaking. They hadn’t done anything to deserve this; they merely chose to be friends with the wrong person. And he had relentlessly hunted them down again and again. 

“We ran away, we did all that we could,” Fitz said out loud. The sun was setting.

“I love you, Fitz,” Jemma said. She could feel the air shift. He smiled at her.

“I love you, too,” he nodded. He planted the soles of his feet flat on the ground, readying himself to spring up. He peeked his head around the side of the car to get a glimpse of their positions. He could see Ward standing in the empty space between their car and his men. Ward stood tall, unafraid, just as the imposing tormentor that had been chasing them for weeks would. Fitz leaned back for a moment, clenching his eyes and swallowing deeply. 

“Ready,” he said when he opened them. Jemma readied herself to spring up, she waited for his count to spring out. 

“One…two…,” Fitz counted, he hesitated before reaching three.

But as soon as he said three, both of them were on their feet, brandishing their Icers and whipping around the car. Jemma reached it first.

“What is one lover without the other?” Ward called out, smiling. He outstretched his arm with his gun. He played with real bullets. The sound of a weapon going off seemed delayed to Fitz. 

Just as Fitz made it to the front, the bullet had struck Jemma. She was thrust backwards, her back slamming into the hood of the car. One perfect bullet entered one perfect body. 

Fitz isn’t sure what he did first, if he went to go shoot Ward or if he screeched ‘No!’ But Ward turned away, walking back to his group of agents, signaling them to leave. Fitz hesitated, but ultimately ran over to Jemma, who had slid down the hood. Her body crumpling over once it hit the ground. A smear of blood tracing her descent on the way down. 

She was a live, but barely. The bullet was perfectly placed, puncturing her lung and close enough to her heart that there would be no way to stop the internal bleeding. Fitz grabbed at her body, pulling her into his arms. 

“I’m glad it was me,” she choked out, her body shutting down rapidly. With the amount of pain she was in she wish she would die faster.

“No, no, no, don’t say that. I’ll get him; we’ll end this, together, Jem… Jemma, stay with me, okay, we’ll get through this. Jemma… Jemma…I love you, please,” Fitz was stammering. He could feel his knees become saturated. The fatal wound bleeding out furiously through her back.

“You can have me back when you get him,” Jemma moaned. 

Fitz followed where his tears were falling, and kissed her, one last time. She was already turning cold. 

By the time he lifted his head up, Jemma was gone. 

For an unknown amount of time, Fitz held her to his chest. He was screaming. No one heard him. No one was there in that moment. He had lost the last thing in his life that mattered. He should have kept her out of this, but he knew he couldn’t.

Ever since meeting Ward, things had begun to slowly turn sour. Ward became friends with them just to steal the project they had been working on. They outed them to their superiors. He torched their lab, leaving them without their jobs, their livelihood. He cut them off from their team. He ransacked their apartment, getting the information of their parents. He went to their parents’ homes and tortured them for no reason other then to provoke them.

And then he started to come directly after them. This person they once felt safe with now pawed at their lives. He forced Fitz and Jemma on the run. He was always behind them. His fury had no bounds. 

And the most twisted thing is that he only wanted to kill one of them. 

Fitz couldn’t bear being there at her funeral. How does one actually show up to bury the love of his life, he wondered. He spent the three days of her wake hiding in a drunken stupor, like a coward. He visited her grave after the funeral, where the soil was still freshly placed. She was buried under a tree on top of a hill, like she had planned out. Jemma got what she said she would have wanted. She got to die first, but he would be the one to rot. They never got to go out in a fury.

She imagined death so many times it had become a memory. But he was the only one to remember it now. If there were anything he could do, he would do it. But there was no reversing time. That’s what he would think. That’s what he would think until forces beyond what he could fathom would change that.

Jemma was waiting for him… but not in death. He would be seeing her a lot sooner then he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S credit to anyone who knows where I lifted that line of thinking about death so much it becomes a memory.
> 
> It's a line from the Broadway musical Hamilton. I haven't seen it yet but have been listening to the soundtrack incessantly on Spotify. So damn good!


	16. Prompt Fourteen: Sleep No More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma has been waiting a long time to experience Sleep No More. An interactive an avant-garde theater in NYC. She hopes to have a wonderful experience, but never expects to discover a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this has a couple of spoilers for Sleep No More... and this would I guess be the spoiler warning for that. Nonetheless, I don't give out too much, but I did put in something I experienced during my second time doing SNM.

Prompt Fourteen: Sleep No More

She had been waiting a long time for this night and had traveled a long way to get to it as well. Jemma made sure to be the first in line, the first to receive her playing card. She ordered a cocktail at the Manderley Bar, soaking in the faux speakeasy pub. Red lights flushed the bar, and there was a smoky effect without anyone actually being allowed to smoke. Actors in flashy 1930’s outfits mingled it with guests. Jemma herself looked like she could be a part of the production, she had gone all out in recreating the look of a glamorous 1930’s woman. She wore a silver strapless gown, long enough to hide her comfortable shoes but not get tripped on when running. She felt glamorous and lavished. 

She felt someone tap her on her bare shoulder. Their hand lingered for more then a quick second. She turned around, and an actor stood before her.

“Madam, the McKittrick Hotel would like to offer a special concierge service offered to only our most prestigious guests,” he said eloquently.

Jemma played along, masking her smile while a woman of mystery persona.

“Is that so, sir? What kind of service are you offering,” Jemma batted her eyes.

“We would like to request your presence at one of host’s dinner,” the actor hung an open palm in the air. In his palm was a small brown package with a ribbon fastened through a hole on one side. Jemma picked it up off his hand and examined it for a moment until she realized he hadn’t put his hand down. She slipped the ribbon over her head to hang the small package like a necklace. He made a motion for her to take it. Jemma slipped her hand in his, and he led her through the bar patrons to a hallway located behind the bar. It was poorly lit, and the noise of the bar was drastically muted so it was only a faint background noise. They came upon a door, where the actor knocked on it. 

He didn’t waited for a response before turning the knob and opening the door. He did not walk in; instead he stood in the archway and led Jemma by the hand through.

“This is where I leave you,” he said, bowing to her. He made another motion with his hand influencing her to continue walk into the new room. The door shut after she was in completely. 

The room was lavishly decorated. Deep red velvet curtains lined the wall, creating a dramatic look similar to the Manderley Bar without using the light. An antique chandelier in the center supplied the light in this room. It did not offer much light, but gave off a yellow hue. The music from the bar could no longer be heard, but instead a record player in a corner spun a Billie Holiday song. Jemma recognized this song, All of Me. There was a door on the other side of the room, directly across from the one she stood in front of.

Underneath the chandelier was a table. At the far side of the table, sat a man, with a plate of food and a glass of wine in front of him. When she focused on him, he stood up. 

“Forgive my manners, please come and join me for dinner,” he spoke. He had a Scottish accent, and Jemma was fairly certain it was real. This was supposed to be Macbeth, of course; so employing a few Scottish actors was always helpful. 

Jemma crossed the room slowly. When she reached the table, the man passed by her and pulled her chair out for her. Jemma gathered the skirt of her dress and stood in front of the chair, where the man gently pushed it underneath her. When she sat down, he returned to his own chair.

“Wine,” he offered, picking up a bottle of red wine that had been chilling in a stand on the side of the table.

“Yes, please,” Jemma responded. She noticed she was breathing heavily. Being alone with this stranger was a thrill. The song had ended, and a crackling noise replaced the crooning voice of Billie Holiday. The man stood up again to pour wine into her glass. He watched the wine fall into the glass, but as he titled the bottle upwards to stem its flow he looked directly at her and let the stare linger. Jemma thought about his lovely blue eyes. He returned the bottle to its bucket of ice and crossed the room to the record player. He lifted needle off the album and replaced the record with a different one. Jemma recognized this song too, her grandmother used to play it as a child. Blue Moon by Jo Stafford. 

Her lips remembered the words better then her mind did, and she found herself lip-syncing to it, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It was a pleasant memory to have, and it released some of her nervousness. The man returned to the table and back to his seat. He picked up his glass and lifted it into the air.

“Cheers,” he said.

Jemma snapped out of her trance and raised her own glass to his.

“Cheers,” she echoed, bringing the glass to her lips to take a sip. It was an aromatic wine, slightly dry and most certainly expensive.

“What brings you to the McKittrick, all by yourself no less,” the man said, beginning conversation. He picked up his napkin and tucked it into the collar of his tuxedo. Jemma mirrored him, setting her own napkin on her lap. 

Ms. Jo Stafford sung behind her, ‘you knew what I was there for, you heard me saying a praying for, and then there suddenly appeared before me, the only one my arms would ever hold.”

Jemma was lost in the song for a moment while trying to come up with a fitting answer.

“I heard there was someone waiting there for me,” she responded, she was trying to keep up her mysterious woman front. It was hard when the man in front of her was being paid to be that character. She hadn’t planned for this, but this was what Sleep No More was all about. It was an experience that involved encounters with strangers, and three hours of forgetting yourself as a person.

“You will find many guests at the McKittrick,” the man said, he cut a piece of his steak and brought the piece up to his mouth.

Jemma finally picked up her own utensils and cut into her own steak. She wasn’t hungry, but she wanted the full effect of this moment. After having a piece of steak, she washed it down with more of the wine.

The Jo Stafford song ended, and another Billie Holiday song churned out. It was Jemma’s favorite because it had been her grandfather’s. As a little girl she used to dance on his feet to this song. Jemma lightly tittered to herself, the memory overpowering herself with a happy memory. It made her miss her grandfather dearly.

The man noticed her light laughter.

“Enjoying this song?” he asked, he was very polite.

“Quite so, it’s my favorite,” she gushed.

Yet again the man stood up, placing his napkin to the side of his plate. He moved to the side of the table, and extended his hand out to her like the other actor had to bring her here.

“Would you like to dance, I cannot simply deny you the full pleasure of this song,” he mused.

The word pleasure sent a chill down her spine.

Jemma smiled up at him, and without vocally consenting, she accepted his offer with her hand, allowing him to tenderly lift her from her chair. He held her hand high in the air between them until they were far enough from the table. The man faced her, and pulled her in close with a hand on her lower back, but not low enough that would alarm her. She placed a hand on the side of his shoulder. And together they swayed in circles to the lulling hums of Billie Holliday’s voice. Somewhere in the middle of the song, Jemma rested her head on his shoulder, her nose nuzzling against his collar. His cologne smelled like an accord of gourmand and crushed leaves. A wave of coziness melted Jemma into the moment. Even if this moment was fabricated, she was lost in it. 

The song ended without Jemma realizing. His fingers were drawing shapes on the curve of her back. It was back to the slight crackle and popping of a finished album. Neither of them had noticed, they kept swaying in their small circles. His hands had become warm in hers.

It wasn’t until the pin of the record player skipped and sent a shrill noise into the air, causing both of them to jump. Jemma could feel a heat in between their chests as they pulled away from their stance and she felt compelled to look at her feet rather then at him. Without saying a word he went back over to the record player.

Jemma lightly rubbed her eyes, careful not to smudge the make up she poured incessantly over Youtube tutorials to get right. She moved back over to the table and had some more wine to cool her down. The chill of the wine refreshed her senses. While he was still attending to the record player, she down the rest of her glass. 

Just as he returned to the table, a ringing bell noise sounded somewhere outside the room.

“Oh, look’s like it is time for you to meet your guests at the McKittrick,” he said. He crossed to a different corner of the room and opened a drawer of a vanity she hadn’t noticed there before. It was swept up in the darkness. He turned back to her, a white mask held in his hands. The white mask would cover form her forehead to just above her top lip. The part of the nose extended outwards, to replicate the mask Plague Doctors war during the Renaissance.

He stretched the elastic over her head and lowered the mask on her face. She adjusted the band on the back so the mask wouldn’t slip, and tucked the band underneath her hair. She would not let it ruin the perfect pressed curls she had strained over to get right.

“Inside the package around your neck, are a map and a key. You are more then welcome to open it and read it anytime during your journey at the McKittrick Hotel. Following the instructions is up to you. And remember, fortune favors the bold,” he led her by hand to the door opposite of the room, the one she hadn’t come through. 

He opened and entered through the door first and brought her into another hallway. A low, undulating noise resounded. It reminded her of the dying sound of thunder, but there was something mildly off putting about the noise. It was just a bit comfortable.

The hallway was almost completely empty, she could tell it was fairly long, despite there only being one light hanging from above. The man closed the door after Jemma, and brought her over to the only thing that occupied the hallway, a wheelchair.

“Last night, I dreamt I went to Manderley again,” he spoke softly. These were the opening lines to Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca. He prompted her to sit on the wheelchair. 

As he rolled her slowly down the hallway, he continued with the book’s opening paragraph:

“It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for the way was barred to me. Then, like all dreamers, I was possessed of a sudden with supernatural powers and passed like a spirit through the barrier before me,” his speech had changed from the demeanor it was when they were having dinner just moments ago. He maintained a breathless quality, and coupled with the unending rumbling sound it itself had an air of uncertainness to it.

He stopped rolling her down the hallway. He adjusted something on the wheelchair, and eased the back of the chair down, so Jemma was lying flat on her back, with her legs bent at the knees. She was staring up at the dark ceiling. He circled the chair around, and continued down the same way.

As he walked he picked up where he had left off in the opening lines of the novel, describing the drive up to Manderley, the mansion. Above Jemma, small lights popped on and off, illuminating a diorama. First the drive up to the mansion, the encroaching woods as described as surrounding it. And when he reached the part about the moonlight and clouds, the diorama shifted to a dreamlike depiction. He stopped again, when there was a break in the clouds in the diorama, it was Manderley again, but a light was on in one of its tiny windows.

“Time could not mar the perfect symmetry of those walls. Moonlight can play odd tricks upon the fancy, and suddenly it seemed to me that light came from the windows. And then a cloud came upon the moon and hovered an instant like a dark hand before a face. The illusion went with it. I looked upon a desolate shell, with no whisper of a past about its staring walls,” he said as they were stopped.

He lifted the back of the wheelchair so Jemma was sitting up right again and could no longer see the diorama. He held out his hand for her, like so many times before during the evening. As Jemma lifted from the seat, he brought her hand up to his lips and tenderly kissed the back of her hand. She could feel his lips on her hand even after, as they left an imprint of wetness, whether it was from his oration or the wine.

He walked her to a wall, and backed her up against it. In this spot, it was completely dark, and she could no longer see that single light in the hallway as he stood directly in front of her.

He dropped her hand delicately, and placed a hand on the wall at either side of her head. Jemma’s chest rose and fell furiously. The heat had returned to Jemma, and this time was even more intense. Her knees weakened, and she clenched the wall with her palms to steady herself. She thought for a moment that she could sense the frantic pace of his heartbeat, but considered it was probably her own. She could feel heart rattle inside her ribcage, like it was trying to escape out of her chest.

He leaned in to a side of her face, his shoulder brushing up against the jutting nose of the mask. And then, he recited the last line of the opening paragraph:

“We can never go back to Manderley again.”

The line was chilling in and of itself. But his delivery lent a new dimension to it, part desperation, and part craving. He lingered with his lips near her ear for an prolonged moment. She could feel his hands lift from the wall next to her on either side. He moved to the side and opened a door that had been next to her the whole time without realizing.

Jemma lingered against the wall for another long moment. She peeled herself off slowly, first extending her hips, then her chest and shoulders. In the darkness she could barely see him, but a tiny shred of light poured in from the now open door, and she could tell he was in an open stance, beckoning her to go through another door. He said nothing more. As she passed him to go through the door, she stared at him, taking her time to exit. When she passed through, she was turned to him, and in the shadowy light continued to look at him deeply. He stayed in that moment, too, until he slowly shut the door, returning its appearance back to a wall. There was no handle on this side. He was right, she could not return to Manderley. At least not return to the bar from this door.

She could hear the scurrying of feet around the corner, and turned her attention away, putting the thoughts of this intriguing stranger aside. Around the corner she found a group of other white mask clad guests following an actor, the actors were the only ones note to wear a mask. She explored the McKittrick, following different characters and unraveling the mysteries to be found.

When she reached what she believed was the mid point, she stayed back in one of the rooms, which was empty as no character was in it. She took the package off her chest, and huddling to the dim light (there was not well lit room in this whole place), she found a small piece of paper, and a brass key. 

On the paper, like the man had said was a map to a secret room. Jemma made her way to the room, getting lost a few times, but soon enough she found herself in front of a partially hid door. She wouldn’t have known unless she had been looking for it.

She slid the key into its lock, and opened the door. 

She opened the door to… another hallway. The undulating noise had subsided, and it was quiet. She closed the door after her, and could tell it locked again. The hallway wasn’t as dark as the last one. In fact, it was lined with candles. Jemma walked, holding her gown off the floor so it wouldn’t catch on a candle. During her walk, she slipped the key back into the packet, and back around her neck. When she reached the end of the hallway, she came to a thick and dark curtain. She could hear music being played on the other side of it.

She parted the curtain, and there the man was again, lounging on one of those fainting couches. 

“Hello again,” he said warmly.

“Hello,” she replied, trying to hide the smile forming on her face. She was happy to see him again.

“You may take your mask off here,” he informed. This was definitely different from how this experience worked.

Jemma did as she was told; she set the mask down on an end table next to her.

Fortune favors the bold, resounded in her head.

“Another drink?” the man was pouring another glass of wine and offered it to her.

She accepted, it was the same delicious win that was in the room they had been in together. 

“What’s your name?” he asked.

Jemma forgot for a moment. The mood was so different in this room. It was warm and she could feel that heat rise in her again. She took a swig of the wine.

“Jemma,” she answered.

Felling bold, she asked him his. He didn’t respond right away either. He looked away form her, like it was knowledge he had to unlock for himself.

“At this point, I would be telling you my character’s name.”

His response was a total surprise. His voice had shifted from its airiness to add a mystification to his act. It was his normal voice.

“I get a feeling you weren’t supposed to say that,” she responded, feeling clever.

She drew herself closer to him, sitting next to him on the fainting couch. He was slightly hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees, and his head tucked down.

“That’s the beauty of this place, every interaction is unique, and I chose to go this route with you. My name, and it is my actual name, is Leo Fitz,” he said with his head still hung. 

“Do you feel the heat?” Jemma said. With his act removed, she felt that she could speak freely, that she could have control of the situation. 

Now his chest was the one steadily rising and falling. She discovered what it was like to have powers with words. She wanted more. He straightened his back and looked up at her, positioning his body to face her.

“Every night, someone different is brought into that room, and I don’t see them. I stick to procedure. And tonight, when you walked in, I felt something different in the air, like a soul had entered instead of a body,” he said, there was a light in his eyes.

Jemma scooted closer to him on the couch. Entranced by his words, by his realness.

“To speak frankly, I felt something in that room. I was sad to leave it, to leave you, because it would be my only chance to see you. I’m glad I’m not the only one to have recognized something special was happening even if I can’t describe how or why. Thank you for that experience,” she said.

He moved in closer on the couch as well, his knee brushing up against hers. His head was level with hers, and as they stared at each other, both of their chests rose and fell with an enthusiasm.

“Would it be wrong to ask you to kiss me?” Jemma blurted out. She didn’t want to get him in trouble at work, obviously.

“N-No,” he stated firmly. 

With that confirmation, Jemma reacted on impulse, pulling herself in to him. The kiss turned the heat into a full inferno, and there was passion and intensity Jemma had never experienced before in a kiss. In the natural order of things, the pair had worked themselves into frenzy. While it was difficult to position her with the constrictions of the dress, Leo had taken care of her dilemma by returning the force of her kiss so that she was on her back. 

Jemma trembled underneath him. The whole hour and a half she had been apart with him her longing had lied dormant. She craved a moment like this. It was surreal, she had never imagined something like this could have happened in her anticipation of the journey. And the fact that the feeling was mutual, that the intensity had gnawed on him as well so that they couldn’t ignore a breaking point meant something magical had occurred. 

He had been the person she was looking for tonight, even if she hadn’t realized what that statement meant when she said it in the beginning of the night. It meant when he drew shapes on her back as they danced that he was fighting through the script, connecting with her and not just entertaining her. It meant when he kissed her hand, and lingered there for a moment that he had to fight, and again when he leaned in so close she could practically feel his erratic heartbeat.

When the kiss ended, the realization that she would have to return stifled the mood. She wanted him again and again, and the glow in his eyes echoed her sentiments. She didn’t have her phone on her or a pen to write down a number. 

“Wait for me tonight, in the bar,” he said, as if he had read her mind. 

She thought she would try to be smart and clever with her reply, bringing back up her woman of mystery persona. 

“So we can return to Manderley.”


	17. Prompt Fifteen: The Wedding Date Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma needs a date for her cousin's wedding. Even though things have been rocky between her and Fitz, she stills asks him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NaNoWriMo is winding down, which means I will soon have freedom!

Prompt Fifteen: Need a Wedding Date

Jemma missed the first phone. She ha bolted down the hall when she heard it go off, but when she reached he room where it was charging, the call had ended.

"Crap," she uttered under her breath, looking at the screen to see who had been calling. 'Mum' lit up on the screen.

"Double crap," she added, dialing back to return the call.

Jemma's mother answered just after the first ring, as if she had been clutching the phone tightly.

"Hi, Mum, sorry I missed your ring," Jemma said picking up the phone.

"Jemma! Good, grief I finally get you on the phone. I wanted to ask what day you are coming home this week for your cousin's wedding," her mother responded.

Jemma planted her hand on her forehead. Another crap sprung into her head. She had completely forgotten the wedding, despite having it marked down for months in her phone and her calendar. She scurried over to see her schedule for the week, she did remember taking the days off, thank goodness. Her eyes scanned over the dates for when she booked her flight.

"I'll be arriving Thursday morning, Mum," she said. 

"And your date is coming with you?" her mum pried.

Yet another thing Jemma forgot. She had checked off for a plus one, despite having been single at the time of the invitation. She guesses she had anticipated finding someone for the wedding but never got around to it. Could she really be blamed? She worked around the clock at a scientist for SHIELD, and everyone she knew she worked with.

"Oh, yeah, he will be with me," Jemma fibbed. She had two days to bring someone.

"How are you sweetie, you sound aghast. Are you eating enough? Are you getting enough sleep? You know if your entertainment business doesn't work you can always come home," there her mom dropped it. Her mother, sweet woman, but just didn't think what Jemma was doing with her life in the States was good enough for her. That is because Jemma's family did not know she was an agent of a government organization. She lied to them because they wouldn't approve. Instead, she had woven such a mass of a lies that she created a fake website for her entertainment business. When she told her parents that was what she was doing, they were disappointed that all the schooling she went to for science was dropped. Jemma always had to find a way to disappoint her parents, at least from her perspective.

"Yes, Mum, I'm eating well, just have a lot of work to get done. I'm dealing with a client from hell," Jemma hated lying. It reminded her she needed to update her fake business website, post new fake pictures. 

"Well, don't let someone drive you crazy, okay? You can't help anyone if you can't help yourself, first," Jemma's mother replied. That was something Jemma's mother had been saying since she was a little girl.

“I won’t, Mum, thanks, I will see you on...” Jemma looked at the calendar again she had already forgotten the date of her flight. “Thursday.”

“Bye, darling, your father and I cannot wait to see you, and your date! Who is he? Oh! I guess I will just be surprised to meet him. I love you,” Jemma’s mom tittered on the other end of the phone.

“I love you too, Mum,” Jemma replied, ending the call directly after so her mom wouldn’t have a chance to say anything else.  
Jemma set the phone back down on its charger and slumped down on her bed before jumping back up a second later. She had to make sure she was actually off of work. She bolted out of the room to find Coulson, her boss. His office door was closed, but she knocked until she was granted access.

“Hi, Sir,” Jemma huffed, catching her breath from her sprint.

“What’s up, Simmons?” he said, leaning against his desk.

“I can’t remember if I took this weekend off, I have my cousin’s wedding and it completely escaped my mind,” she spilled out.

Coulson uncrossed his arms and stood up straight.

“Yes Jemma, you took off months ago. Don’t you remember our chat about that?” Coulson said. He didn’t look upset with her.

“Uh, no, Sir, please refresh my memory,” Jemma took a few steps in the room.

“When you asked for this weekend off, I replied that Fitz had already taken it off, and I asked you guys not to do that again, because I can’t have both of you off the same time. In the future, of course,” Coulson informed.

Jemma smiled. Fitz was off, that was perfect. She could take him and not some random creepy drifter or pay someone or….

“You understand what I just said?” Coulson was dubious because of her odd response.

“Yes, but you just made my life so much easier telling me Fitz is off. I have got to go, Sir, thank you!” Jemma dashed back out of the room, continuing to smile on her way out.

First, she prepped the sandwich. Fitz was always hungry either way, but the sandwich could do wonders. She brought over two mugs for tea and held it all on a tray, bringing it to the lab.

“Fitz!” she chimed excitedly entering the laboratory. He turned around in his chair. 

“Oh, hey Jemma,” his eyes narrowed in on the sandwich.

“Yes, this is for you,” Jemma said setting it down on the table next to him. Fitz shimmied up in the seat. He placed two hands around it and took a bite.

Hook, line… Jemma thought.

With his mouth still stuffed, Jemma began to preposition him.

“So, Fitz, I heard you are on vacation this weekend. I have got some plans for you, of course if you’re interested. But it will be so much fun, I promise,” she spoke rapidly.

He stopped chewing and gave her a concerned glance. Fitz swallowed. 

“What?” he said flatly.

This was crucial now, to get her preposition just right. Things hadn’t been very great between them recently. After they kissed in the lab that night, they had both been unconsciously avoiding each other. Back to not being able to communicate properly. Jemma thought this could be an opportunity to save their relationship, their friendship.

“I have to go to home, to England, this weekend, for a wedding. I was wondering if you’d like to come. It would be nice to get a break from the lab, wouldn’t it? And we could always take a trip north after, visit your Mum,” Jemma’s fingers danced with each other nervously in her lap.

Fitz was silent. He took another bite of the Panini. Maybe it would help make up his mind. Jemma secretly wished she had the superpower to force him to say yes. No wait, that would be wrong. She wouldn’t want to force anyone to do anything they didn’t want to. But she did want Fitz to say yes right now.

Fitz’ face said otherwise. He was stoic, and she read his expression as considering rejecting her invitation.

“We can go to Perthshire,” Jemma blurted out in desperation. She hadn’t known where that came from and it was out of her mouth before she could process it.

This caught Fitz by surprise. It was true; he had been leaning towards saying no. He thought it was better if they stayed away from each other, just for a while. He didn’t want her to do favors for him and he didn’t want to do favors for her. He just wanted to do his job and when he was ready to deal with his thoughts, he was hoping she would be ready too.

He mulled it over for a bit longer. He could see Jemma grow in anxiety. She needed someone. And the thought that maybe she didn't have anyone else besides this small world crossed his mind. He figured, who did he have?

"Alright, I'll come," he said, Perthshire being the winning bargaining.

Jemma nearly jumped off the chair she was on to give him a hug, but instead she only managed in awkwardly pumping her fists in the air. Fitz cocked an eyebrow at her, as if to say 'really.' 

"Thank you, Fitz," she said earnestly.

"It's been awhile since I've been back home," he said.

Jemma frowned for a second. She gathered from his statement that was the reason why he was coming. 

"I will go and finish the arrangements, we lift off on Thursday, okay?" Jemma added, her voice an octave lower.

Fitz nodded, and thanked her for the panini. He was conflicted because he knew he wasn't fully ready to talk to Jemma. And now he was going to spend an eight hour flight next to her. A car ride from the airport and sitting next to her at the wedding. He could already see her family poking and prodding at him. Her parents for sure, probably surprised she was still friends with her old Academy friend. But, if he said no, it would have potentially closed a door forever. He would be stuck only asking 'what if,' after this. And besides, what if this was Jemma trying to make things right. Outside of doing science she wasn't fairly skilled in navigating human interaction. Although, he could say the same for himself.

Jemma returned to her room to update her plane ticket and to rent a car. She spent a good deal of time looking for that cottage in Perthshire she had seen as a girl. After an hour searching and coming up with nothing, she settled to booking a quaint bread and breakfast not too far from where his mother still lived. It was reclusive, in a mountainous area and by a river. There was still plenty to do, if Fitz was tired of her he could go off and of any number of activities. Jemma figured she would go for a jog on the trails. She missed the beauty of the United Kingdom. 

She went over all the plans a few more times before plugging off for the night.

Fitz' vacation started the next day, Wednesday. Jemma didn't see him the whole day so she left the itinerary on his bed for him to look over and make any changes. When she saw him at night, she asked if he had seen it and he hadn't mentioned if he had anything to change. They woke up early on Thursday, both of their bags packed the day before. It was early in the morning and they were both quiet. The kind of quiet that was just a bit unsettling. Jemma bit her tongue every time she went to go and say something, knowing it would just be filler talk. And it was so early in the morning. Who wanted to have a conversation this early? 

When they got to the airport, Fitz walked the length of the terminal a few times. Jemma wanted him to come back so she could get breakfast and not have to watch their luggage. She forgot how cumbersome civilian traveling was. When Fitz finally did show up, twenty minutes before the flight boarded, he had brought breakfast for both of them. He selected coffee; knowing airport tea would not satisfy either of their tastes. Other than thanking him for his thoughtfulness, they ate their breakfast sandwiches in silence, too. 

Fitz fell asleep right away on the plane, he seemed very pleased that Jemma had booked first class tickets. In truth, her parents had paid for them, but she took the compliment. Her parents always wanted to make sure their daughter was comfortable, and they certainly had the pockets to make it that way, despite Jemma refusing their amenities constantly. She always became shy when her parents wealth somehow crossed into her life. It was their wealth, not hers. Her father had worked very hard to build his company. She had to beg him not to send the private jet.

A private car waited for them at Robin Hood Airport Doncaster Sheffield. Jemma’s name was scrawled on the chauffeur’s tablet. She recognized the driver right away, and smiled. He was the same driver that had driven her to elementary school each morning.

“Richard!” she beamed at the man. He was much older now, but the crinkle around his eyes as he smiled were the same.

“Miss Jemma, welcome home,” he said cheerfully, taking her luggage from her. She asked him not to make a fuss, blushing madly. Fitz remained mostly silent as Jemma introduced Richard to Fitz.

He brought them to a limousine, a full, stretch limousine. Even though Fitz had known how wealthy her parents were, it made her uncomfortable. She didn’t like showing off those kinds of things.

“The bar is stocked, Miss Jemma, if you and Mister Fitz would like to celebrate,” Richard said as he climbed into the front seat. After Jemma thanked him, he announced he was closing the partition for their privacy and if they needed anything to just use the intercom. 

Fitz was still quiet. It bothered Jemma’s nerves. Being around her family was stressful enough and now Fitz wasn’t enjoying his time and was probably thinking about how much he wasted his vacation. If it were only a different time, this trip would be going such a different way.

Jemma popped open a bottle of wine. She offered Fitz a glass, which declined. She poured hers rather high.

“Well, my parents will be certainly happy to see you, they have seen you since we graduated the Academy,” Jemma spoke. She deemed it okay now to force conversation. It was mid afternoon now.

“That is very true,” he said. Jemma turned away to frown. 

“Are you sure you don’t want a glass?” Jemma offered again. She was happy she could enjoy wine again. He shook his head and concentrated on the passing by countryside as they traveled south.

It wasn’t a terribly long drive, but Jemma’s parents did live in a sprawling piece of land, where they didn’t have any neighbors for miles. Jemma could feel the familiarity return to her, as Richard turned down their street. Fitz had been to her house before so he knew what to expect.

Jemma had left out one detail that Fitz would probably have wanted to know. Her cousin’s wedding was taking place here, so the house was going to be hectic as the catering services set up. Thankfully, the wedding was outside.

“You’re home, Miss Jemma,” Richard announced through the intercom as he turned down the very long, tree lined driveway. Jemma always loved this part of her house the most; she used to run up and down the line of trees. She spent most of her time as a kid outside exploring, examining. 

There was staff waiting outside to take in their luggage, and Jemma’s mother appeared just moments later.

Her mother, where Jemma got her excitement from, yelled excitedly, grabbing her daughter in tight hug.

“Hello Mum!” Jemma gushed, trying to wiggle free for some air.

“Mum, you remember Leo Fitz, my friend from school,” Jemma said.

“Leopold! Oh! Of course I do Jemma! You’d be silly to think I didn’t after how much you talk about him on the phone!” Jemma’s mother spilled.

Jemma blushed again. Jemma’s mother went to give Fitz one of her life squeezing hugs.

“Hello, Mrs. Simmons, how are you?” Fitz, who had been grumpy and distant the entire time, had perked up. Perhaps he had been saving his energy for this.

“Oh, dear, it’s Regina, come in darling, come along,” Jemma’s mother corrected Fitz.

As Regina shuffled them inside, she gabbed on about how Jemma’s father was still at work but would be back for dinner. Regina walked with them up the stairs, prattling on and on about gossip and whatever she usually talked about. Jemma was more interested n seeing her family’s pets at this point. Regina had walked them to Jemma’s room.

“Your luggage is inside. Go and make yourselves comfortable of course, we’ll have tea in the courtyard at four when your father arrives home,” Regina said, pushing Jemma’s door open.

Jemma’s room was a sprawling space. It was comprised of mismatched furniture, remnants from Jemma’s short rebellious phase as a pre-teen. There were several old chemistry sets that Jemma had used to near ruin as a child.

“Um, Mum,” Jemma said, pulling her mother to the side. She had said their luggage was here.

“Where is Fitz staying?” she asked in a hushed tone. 

Regina giggled, “Oh Jemma, darling, you’re adults, you’re together, I wouldn’t put you in separate rooms for the life of me. Besides, all the extra bedrooms will have family in them.”

“But, Mu-,” Jemma started.

“Don’t worry about it!” Regina added with a wink, before walking off.

Jemma was now mortified. She slowly turned back to Fitz.

“So, uh, we’re staying together… in here,” Jemma said softly.

Fitz’ looked surprised. “Oh,” he said.

Jemma quickly entered the room, passing by him. She immediately went to pull out the trundle bed underneath hers. 

“I-I’m sorry,” she blustered, tugging at the heavy wooden bed frame.

“It’s not a problem, Jemma,” he said quite blankly, putting a hand on her arm to get her to stop. 

He mumbled something about going to freshen up, and went to her private bathroom.

Jemma sighed. This was going worse then she had hoped it would go. I should have never asked him to come, she thought. She took out her dresses for the weekend and hung them up. Fitz’ tuxedo was draped across his luggage as he had kept it in bag. She hung that up, too for him.

After dealing with the clothes, she examined her old chemistry sets, smiling about how many times she almost set the drapes on fire. Then she remembered Fitz had done that once with Trip’s spy gear. She laughed at the memory.  
Fitz came out of the bathroom at this time. He had washed his face and spent time in front of the mirror repeating positive affirmations to himself. It was so silly, but this was going to be a rough weekend if he at least didn’t try to stop wallowing in it. Coming out of the bathroom, he made an attempt to undo his displeasing demeanor, and he smiled, actually smiled at Jemma, who was bent over a chemistry laughing about something.

She hadn’t noticed he had come out of the bathroom. He was able to walk right up next to her, and crouch to see what she was finding so funny. He startled her as she hadn’t expected him to be so close and she jumped backwards, loosing her footing and crashing to the floor with a loud thud.

She continued to laugh, and Fitz went to help her up.

“That’s all I need, a big bruise on my bum for the wedding,” she chuckled to herself. She clenched on to his hand to hoist herself up.

“What was so funny?” Fitz asked. He was struggling not to laugh at her.

“Oh…” Jemma started, her voice fading out, “just thought of an old memory.”

She excused herself to use the bathroom, to freshen up herself, and Fitz took to walking around her room, looking at the remnants of pre-teen Jemma’s life. She hadn’t lived here since before the Academy. He remembered the first time he came here he laughed at the big poster of Pierre Curie she had on her wall. Jemma’s mother had pointed out that she had a crush on him. Fitz didn’t let that go for years. He noticed the Curie poster wasn’t on her walls this time around.

Jemma returned in much shorter time then Fitz had taken. He stood in the center of her room, with his hands on his hips.

“You know, you could have always asked Pierre to be your plus one to the wedding,” he said.

Jemma was confused, and the puzzled look on her face told Fitz she hadn’t gotten his joke.

“Pierre… Pierre Curie… you used to have his poster…right there,” Fitz said, pointing to an empty space of wall above a chemistry set. 

Jemma bit her lower lip to stave off embarrassment. 

“I let that crush sail away quite some time ago, you might say he was quite toxic,” Jemma thought she was coming off smart. 

Fitz didn’t quite get her response. Jemma shrugged it off and began to make for the door, it was almost time to meet her parents for tea. 

“Wait, was that… was that a joke about his high level of radiation?” Fitz said following her out.


	18. Prompt Fifteen: The Wedding Date Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of probably 3!
> 
> I am almost done with NaNo D:

Prompt Fifteen: The wedding date part two

A huge weight lifted off Jemma’s chest now that Fitz had warmed up. She would crumble throughout the weekend if he remained his silent and brooding self. She led the way down to tea, picking up her mother’s cat on the way. When they reached the courtyard, her once peaceful backyard was complete disarray, with crews setting up tents and tables and decorations. She set the cat down, where he followed Jemma at her heels.

Jemma’s father was already at the table with her mother. They were talking softly to each other. Jemma’s father was softer spoken then her mother, but he was enthusiastic about Jemma’s endeavors and shared Jemma’s passion for learning. He was the one to introduce her to science; the telescope was probably stored away.

“Dad!” Jemma cheerily exclaimed. She skipped the rest of the way to her father, who pulled her into a large, feet lifting off the ground hug. He filled the noisy air with a hearty laugh. He was a rather large man, and for a flash Fitz imagined Jemma as a child. After Jemma and her father separated, Jemma introduced Fitz again, the same way she had done with her mother. Her father made the same kind of remark, saying he wouldn’t have forgotten Fitz and he was glad they were still friends. That last statement rang a little too true for Jemma. They didn’t know she what had happened. Fitz recalled Coulson weighing the options on what to say to her parents throughout the six months she was missing.

Fitz shook the thought away and extended a firm handshake to her father.

“So, how’s work, Dad?” Jemma said sitting down, her voice coming down in excitement.

“Business, oh, business, bollocks Jem, America has certainly made a businesswoman out of you,” her father chuckled. Europeans generally didn’t start conversation with business talk. Jemma’s father was the only person to call her Jem, apart from Fitz, that is.

“Well, as it would happen, business is good,” Jemma lied, she figured getting the talk about work early out of the way would make it easier not to mess up any information.

“Quite a set up Alexandra is having for the ceremony,” Jemma remarked, changing conversation on behest of seeing a rather gaudy centerpiece being brought down to the tent.

Jemma didn’t get along with all her cousins, she wanted to pin it on the fact she was away for their teenage years, but even during their childhoods they didn’t get along. They thought her weird and she thought them boring. But there were more of them, and Jemma was often more or less a joke to them. She recalled hearing about all their typical British growing up stories, taking trips down to Monaco, shopping sprees in London, going to a chop shop after a night of heavy drinking, Jemma wished she had been invited to these rite of passage things, but alas, she was not their friend and she was not in England.

“Well, you know Alexandra’s fiancé is a barrister, he’s aiming for Parliament,” Jemma’s mother, the gossiper said.

Jemma turned away to roll her eyes, but she ended turning to Fitz’ direction where he caught her typical sarcasm. 

“And Dr. Fitz, how’s your work, I believe Jemma had said that you were still in science?” Regina gabbed away.

“Still in science? Maybe you could put your fancy degrees to work Jemma and see if his company has any open positions,” Jemma’s father interjected before Fitz could say a word.

Fitz’ jaw hung open in the air. Her parents were very nice, but they didn’t realize how hard they were at times. Jemma looked out over the sprawling grounds. And the silliest thing was that she was ‘in science,’ as her parents had phrased it.

“I’m quite happy where I am, thanks,” her voice was monotone. She was upset with her parents now, but she always masked it. Fitz had heard her take this tone on nearly every phone call with them. He couldn’t see her face, but he imagined she was biting her lip fervently.

The tea was brought to the table, to which conversation subdued.

“So you mentioned after the wedding you’re driving up to Scotland, visiting your parents, Leopold?” Regina said before taking a sip of her tea.

“Oh yeah, just my Mum, though,” Fitz replied. He was going to add the bit about Perthshire but wasn’t sure what Jemma told her parents.

Jemma’s father received a phone call. He excused himself to take it. Jemma thought it was very unlike him to answer a call during tea. He wasn’t back when they finished. Jemma excused herself from the table. Fitz followed along, not yet ready to be alone with her mom and the barrage of questions that would surely attack him. This time, Jemma was the quiet one, obviously affected by the way her parents pushed and prodded at her. She disappeared with a change of clothes to the bathroom, and Fitz could hear a bath being drawn. He didn’t stay in the room the whole time, but instead went to walk the grounds, clear his head and revel in the air on this side of the ocean.

Jemma was in the bathroom a long time, falling in to a bit of a nap while taking a bubble bath. It must have just been the long day. When she finished, Fitz was nowhere to be seen, so she curled up on her bed in a towel and fell asleep. She was awoken by a knock on the door saying dinner was ready.

“I’ll be down in five,” she grumbled, not moving.

A minute later the door opened, and Jemma was about to defend her first statement that she was coming down, but was stopped by an apologetic Fitz, who thought he woke her.

“It’s fine,” she said, slipping off the bed. She pulled her hair in to a ponytail and went into the bathroom where she left her change of clothes. She appeared a minute later, where Fitz sat on the bed waiting for her.

“Are you all right?” 

 

Jemma watched him with a guarded front. She grimaced. 

“Yeah, I just wish whatever time I get to have with my parents that they wouldn’t say things that make me feel like they are in disappointed in me. It’s… nothing.” 

They went down to dinner together and went to bed early. The wedding was the next day. They fell asleep on Jemma’s bed, facing opposite directions with the television still on.

The next day started with chaos. Set up for the wedding was in full swing, and Jemma was late getting up. She hadn’t known her mother had hired a hair stylist and makeup artist to come to the house. When she awoke, Fitz had already left to do whatever. She didn’t see him at all. Jemma had been busy getting ready all day and helping her mother not loose her mind.

It wasn’t until the ceremony, when Jemma and Fitz met back up. Jemma was already exhausted from all the running around, and rested her head on Fitz’ shoulder while they waited for the ceremony to start. She hadn’t realized she had placed her head there, it was just second nature. His cologne smelled so good. When Fitz glanced over his shoulder he could see she had her eyes close, she looked like she was murmuring to herself.

Pretty soon, the wedding music flared, and it was time to watch the outrageously long bridal party sashay down the aisle. The women, both friends and family of the bride, wore heinous looking gowns. There was too much fabric and sequins. And the men were decked out in no better. Their suits were a shade of pink that should have never seen the light of day, and they were all too large.

Jemma wish she could have those thoughts about the bride where you stop and think how beautiful they look, but her cousin Alexandra, while being a very naturally beautiful person, was fairly unrecognizable with the overly dramatic make up, the big hair, and even bigger loud dress. 

“I couldn’t be caught dead in a dress like that,” Jemma whispered to Fitz, leaning into him. He had to put a hand over his mouth to stop his laughter. 

The ceremony was every bit lavish and extreme as Jemma had guessed it would be. She was at least excited for the reception, which would mean lots of drinking. These people were at least partiers, and she knew she needed fun. Fitz could use fun, too.

When they got to their assigned seats under the tent, Jemma noticed she was sat at the table with all of her other cousins; the ones who weren’t in the wedding party, but still weren’t very friendly to her. This made her nervous, and before she even ate a breadstick, she had polished off a glass of wine. 

“So Jemma, this is your date? What’s his name?” one of Jemma’s cousins asked. Her name was Mariah and her boyfriend looked like he had just spent three days on London’s tube meandering around.

“This is Fitz,” Jemma said, her hands clinging to his arm. Fitz shifted a bit, uneasy with the amount of touching. He could tell there was some bad blood between Jemma and her cousins.

“Thank you for dressing up and not looking like her slob of a boyfriend,” Jemma turned and whispered into his ear. Her nose brushed up against his ear ever so slightly. He was beginning to get real uncomfortable.

“Anyone want a drink… Jemma?” Fitz said, getting up suddenly. Jemma had to use the side of the table to steady herself from his departure. She accepted his offer.

Jemma had to endure their demeaning chatter for some time waiting for Fitz to get back. They would ask her a question about what she was up to and then put down her accomplishment immediately after. They talked about her love of science like it was loving a dirty diaper. 

“So your Mum had told us you were on a business trip for six months and didn’t even call. They thought you were dead, how could you have done that to your parents,” one of the cousins said, it didn’t matter who said it, just that it was said.

Fitz had pulled up to the table just in time with a drink for Jemma and himself.

“Fitz, you want to dance?” Jemma wrapped her fingers around the glass. She was already standing up, as Fitz was about to sit down. The stern look on Jemma’s face told him if he didn’t comply she would not be pleasant to sit next to. He took her hand and led her away. 

Fitz couldn’t dance anymore then Jemma could, but s she sipped her drink furiously, due to nerves, he did his best not to look like a complete joke. They spent most of the night doing this, when not eating they would b up on the dance floor. Jemma would cling to him during the slow songs, and he could feel her sigh into his chest. When the wedding finally wrapped up, Jemma didn’t want to go back up to the house just yet. She snatched a bottle of wine from the bar and two glasses, and slipping off her heels she led Fitz down a path further on the property. She could make out the pathway just by the moonlight, and came to a small pond, which Fitz had seen earlier in the day as he walked around.

Jemma planted herself on the cool grass right by the waters edge. By the waters edge was a hammock, and Jemma fell onto it, being very careful with the bottle and glasses. She lay on the hammock so only her back was against the cradle, and her feet were planted on the ground. Fitz joined next to her and she handed him one of the glasses of wine. They sat in silence for a considerable amount of time, staring up at the stars.

“You looked very beautiful tonight,” Fitz’ voice cut into the air.

“Thank you,” her voice no louder then a rumble.

“How come you let your family push you around so much?” he continued. Jemma shifted on the hammock. She set her empty glass in the grass next to the bottle and turned to look at Fitz.

“I suppose I don’t want them to know that they hurt me when they say those things,” she said calculating her words.

“But you should let people know if you’re upset,” he was still looking up at the stars.

“I should have done that ten years ago then,” she sighed. 

Fitz reached for her hand and grasped it. It was another night of spontaneously falling asleep side by side.

Jemma awoke first, she always woke up early after nights of heavy drinking. At least she didn’t wake up with a hangover. At some point in the night she nestled snuggly into Fitz’ side, her head tucked under his arm, breathing in the delightful scent of his cologne. She had curled her legs in and was nearly swallowed by the hammock but she was overall comfortable. One of her arms was tucked by her face, and the other was resting on his side. The sky was still dark but there was a strain of light peeking out just over the pond.

Jemma wanted to get up, but she knew it would wake Fitz. There was no way not to, his arm was underneath her head and his other hand was… was… was on her waist, like he had subconsciously pulled her in close over the night. Jemma felt guilty enjoying it, because she knew if Fitz had wakened before her he would have recoiled his hand so fast. They both knew this kind of closeness could be a reality for them both, if only things were different.

She knew she had to wake up Fitz. They had a four and a half hour drive in front of them. Jemma shifted gently, removing her hand from his waist and carefully moving his hand on her waist across his stomach. She inched herself away from his body as delicately as she could, having trouble balancing on the hammock. When she was far enough to not look conspicuous, she laid a hand on his bicep and shook gently.

“Hey, Fitz,” she spoke softly into the early morning.

“Humph,” he mumbled, his eyebrows furrowing.

She repeated.

He popped open an eye and scanned his surroundings till he fell on her. When he realized she was staring he brought both of his hands to his face to rub the sleep away. 

“Morning,” he grumbled, barely audible.

 

“We have to get going soon,” she said sadly.

Fitz stretched, they orchestrated a way to get off the hammock. Jemma collected her shoes, and sleepily they headed back up the long winding path to the house.


	19. Prompt Fifteen: The Wedding Date Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 3 part conclusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion

Prompt Fifteen: The Wedding Date Part Three

After two quick, separate short showers and a send-off from Jemma’s parents, Fitz and Jemma were on the road in a rental car Jemma had ordered to the house. Fitz drove as Jemma was not quite feeling well. She pulled her limbs in and rested on the seat, not quite being able to take a nap but not quite able to focus on the landscape passing by. Fitz was enjoying the drive, the peaceful silence, and his hand on the clutch, sunglasses on, and the window cracked ever so slightly for a small gush of wind to push through his hair. 

 

Once he crossed over from England to Scotland, memories of traversing these roads popped into his mind. He hadn’t had too many instances of getting to drive them but he remembered them well from various trips. His mother always wanted him to know what the world was like. He woke Jemma up a half house before they would arrive at his mother’s house, where they were going to have lunch; she thanked him, needing to freshen up.

Fitz had seen his mother a few months ago, when Jemma was still missing. He went through a week period of needing to see things form a different perspective and thought of his childhood bedroom. He told his mother that Jemma was missing and he wasn’t sure if she was going to return. After he told her that she came back and she was ecstatic. 

It was a lot quieter and less awkward at Fitz’ mom’s house then it had been at Jemma’s parents house. Fitz’ mom was doting and joyous. She didn’t make passive aggressive remarks. Although, she did baby Fitz a bit. She made a specialty dish of Aberdeen Angus steak in a whiskey sauce with potatoes. They stayed for a few hours chatting before leaving at three for the forty minute drive to the bed and breakfast. Except, Jemma had booked it wrong and they were actually staying in one of the cabins on the premises. That’s what happens when you select ‘room for two.’ 

While they both wouldn’t admit to it, they were happy with the seclusion. This was the reason they had travelled to Perthshire, to be alone without distraction and to talk. They were in the woods, near the water, and it was so quiet. 

Of course, the cabin had many perks. On top of the ‘daily chores’ you could opt to do, like splitting logs quilt work, there was also a hot tub. Jemma had booked it on sight alone and not on reading the niceties, so she was a little embarrassed when they pulled up to their cabin and these things were there. Nevertheless, they were troopers.

After unloading the car, Fitz tinkered away at building a fire in the cabin. Jemma walked the grounds a bit before hanging about the hot tub. It was tempting. Maybe later tonight when it was chilly out. Instead, she took the car and found a supermarket a few miles away, returning with snacks and food. As Fitz sat by the fire, staring into its depths, Jemma broke out a bag of marshmallows, and handed him a stick she had found outside. She had rinsed the sticks off and pointed the ends, and had a brief flashback of the alien planet and Will. She felt a bit guilty that she was here and he was still stuck there, but after learning that he probably had ties to Hydra, each day she thought of him a little less. It wasn’t a conscious choice.

Jemma sat next to Fitz slowly roasting marshmallows in silence.

“These will ruin dinner,” Fitz said, as he toasted a third marshmallow.

“That’s up to you,” she replied, she had picked up a ham for dinner that should’ve probably been in the oven.

“I’d be content eating snacks,” Fitz said, blowing out a small fire that had started on his marshmallow. Jemma agreed. She pulled the marshmallow she had on the fire out, blew on it, and stuffed half of it into her mouth. She excused herself, and decided to give that hot tub a spin. She deserved to relax for a bit. She had packed a bathing suit, thank god her mother’s lifelong nagging said to always include one. She grabbed a towel from the bathroom, a few snacks, and moseyed over to the hot tub that was outside. All out of Fitz’ view.

Fitz eventually caught up, having wondered where she had went. He walked up when she had closed her eyes and was leaning over the side of the hot tub. Enjoying the cold breeze on her shoulders and the tranquility of the woods. 

“Hey,” he said, he had his hands in his pockets.

Jemma opened her eyes with a delay. She had been enjoying the moment.

“Hey,” she said meekly, reaching to grab a handful of chips. It was starting to get dark.

“I see you’ve commandeered most of the snacks,” Fitz stated the obvious.

“Figured I might as well, do you want some?” she said, tipping the bag of chips in his direction.

Fitz shook his head.

Awkward silence presumed.

“Well, I suppose now is as best a time to talk, right?” Jemma said, she was staring straight ahead, adjusting her hair into a bun so the water wouldn’t ruin it.

“I suppose,” Fitz confirmed. But he continued to stand there stubbornly.

“You can come in here, you know,” she said.

“I don’t have a swimming trunks, and certainly don’t have shorts.” he replied flatly.  
“You can’t see anything in this water,” Jemma said, looking down. The water was a dark color, but there were colorful lights at the bottom. You couldn’t tell she was wearing a bathing suit except for the tie around her neck.

In no way did Jemma mean to imply anything with her comment, but Fitz headed back in the house to grab a towel and take off his clothes except for his boxers. He figured he might as well. He returned a few minutes later, pushing aside the thoughts in Jemma’s head that he was back to being mute and distant.

“Turn around,” he said, coming up to the edge of the hot tub.

Jemma did as she was told and for added measure put her hands over her eyes. She could hear Fitz lift his leg over the side and dip into the water. He mumbled something about it being okay for her resume. They sat across from each other. 

Jemma went over to the settings panel of the hot tub, and played with the controls until soft rock music crooned from speakers somewhere on it. She didn’t like the silence anymore.

“So, what is there to talk about?” Fitz said.

“Well, for starters, are we friends?” she said. 

Fitz was taken aback by this.

“Of course we are,” he said. He went on that they could never not be.

“Okay,” Jemma said. All the thoughts she had in her head the past few weeks seemed to have scurried away. More silence ensued.

“My turn, why did you kiss me back?” Fitz dug into the conversation. He skipped a few steps.

Jemma brought a hand up to her forehead. She looked away from him, at the trees. She sunk lower into the water, the breeze now too cold to leave them above the water.

“I…I wanted to. It was my way of saying that I have feelings for you, and, at the moment I didn’t know how to deal with them. Why did you kiss me?” Jemma didn’t say as much as Fitz hoped. Fitz took a deep breath.

“I felt it was my only chance,” there were also a million other things he wanted to say. 

Jemma let that sink in. And still looking away confided in Fitz she hadn’t been too sure of herself.

“That time, you asked me if I loved Fitz, and how did I phrase it? I said yes right? Looking back I’m not so sure I was honest. It’s true I have feelings for Will and they’ve been complicated by what we’ve learned about him the past few weeks, and I still stand by that we need to get him back, but, I…,” Jemma stopped, not sure how to continue. She knew what she wanted to say next. What occurred to her in the early hours of the morning, so clear and yet she was so thick to see it truly. Fitz waited patiently. Jemma took a deep breath this time and cleared her throat. She definitely made sure to avoid eye contact.

“I woke up early this morning. Before you were awake. And, it was just so nice… I was up against your side, and you had your arm around me. My hand was on your stomach. And I didn’t think about loving you, but I thought about having that forever. And it scared me because I wanted it so bad, and I do want it so bad. So, I inched away from you. I took your hand off me and I kept mine to myself. And it hurt to do that. And it hurt that I kept that to myself all day. Being here with you is just a reminder of what we could have and I don’t know why I can pass over this obstacle of being torn on going after someone that yes, is important, and going after you. Ultimately, I want you to be happy whether that includes me or not,” Jemma blurted the last few lines. She bit her lip after they were out in the open. She couldn’t take them out.

“You know I love you Jemma,” he said back.

Jemma looked at him. Tears were welling up in her eyes because she had been so terrified to say all of it. She bit her lip, trying to figure out what to say or do. And then said the only thing that seemed natural. 

“I love you too.” 

The words fell out of her mouth before conscious thought could rationalize them. But once logical thought did, she didn’t feel embarrassed over them. She stood firmly by them. She had felt it for so long, and to finally figure out what exactly that feeling was and to confirm it out loud, to the person that deserved to hear them was cathartic.

Jemma batted her eyes, breaking the tears caught in the corner of her eyes. She shut her eyes to hold the rest in. She heard the water move and felt Fitz leg brush up against hers. He had moved next to her. He swung an arm behind her, resting it on the side of the hot tub.

“You said that we were cursed and I wondered if it was just me, if I was the reason we couldn’t be together, and I don’t want that to be the reason now. It’s clear to me now that it has always been you. You have always been my end. And…and…” Jemma couldn’t hold the sentence together anymore, her voice had tethered off, tight with the feeling that she would break out in a sob.  
“For a time it was hard to even look at you and know that you didn’t want me back. It rightly gutted me. And it was obvious that those feelings can’t be forced. I could never hate you or think less of you for thinking or rather feeling otherwise. For the longest time, loving you felt selfish to me and it built up a part of me I wasn’t proud of. Thank you for being honest and I’m glad we were just able to speak… openly. What do you want to happen next?” Fitz spoke so softly into her ear, his voice just audible over the motor of the hot tub.

“I want this moment, and want them in the future. And I want you, Fitz,” Jemma turned to him. Her eyes were still heavy, brimmed with the remnants of fluctuating emotion. She felt so bare to say all of this, never having been this exposed. She had built up layers of intelligence and science to counteract dealing with these kinds of things. 

And for now, things were right between them, even if they weren’t perfect. There wasn’t pent up animosity or jealously. They were on the same page, visceral. And the fears Jemma harbored over doing something like this, asking what she felt was another favor, was mutually pined over. She remembered that sometimes bravery wasn’t in the bold acts that you do for someone, but rather just being with the person in the most open and honest way possible. She learned that from Fitz. 

Even though they sat next to each other, much like they had sleeping in the same bed and the hammock, things were worlds different from what they had been at that moment. Fitz knew Jemma loved him, and they could build something, slowly but surely. And that was all she could have ever wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I had set a rating on this you might have gotten a smutty scene. 
> 
> Just saying! ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	20. Prompt Sixteen: Take a Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a happy one. Fitz is away from his family working on an important project. Jemma begs him to come home, but when he does, it's not like either of them pictured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I won NaNo with this, crossing the 50,000 word mark.
> 
> And guess what, it's a super downer of a story. And it was all inspired by the Hamilton musical, and well, Alexander Hamilton's life. I am such Hamiltrash, and I will work hard to convert you as well.
> 
> You can listen to the songs that inspired it too, on Spotify or Youtube:  
> Take A Break  
> Say No to This  
> The Reynolds Pamphlet  
> Burn
> 
> I will probably write a bit more, up until Sunday, as not end this 30 Day NaNo fic on such a sad note.

Prompt Sixteen: Take a Break

“Fitz, are you coming home soon?” Jemma said into her phone. She placed a hand on her forehead, her temperature was reading warm. She had been working too hard to try and manage everything at home.

“Soon, Jemma, I need to get this project finished. I can’t leave without it being done; you know how much is weighing on it. The team and I believe we’re so close to the breakthrough,” he replied, he sounded out of breath.

“Your family really misses you,” Jemma said with disappointment cutting through her voice. She looked around the corner to peek at their daughter, happily working on a Rubik’s cube. She was four and a half and had finished it for the first time last week. And Fitz had missed it, just like he had been missing everything else that was happening at their homestead the past two months.

“And I miss you, too,” he said. It sounded like he meant it. The edges of Jemma’s lips twitched, she couldn’t be mad at him. The project he was working on would revolutionize the world. She knew that for how hard it was to work, look after their daughter Elena (named after the first woman to hold a doctorate degree, Elena Cornaro Piscopia) and the house, Fitz was doing his work so far away from them. And that wasn’t easy either.

“Well, if you can spare a weekend or two if the work isn’t tying up fast enough we’d really appreciate it. Daisy is coming and staying for a few weeks. We’re going to the lake house. You should take a break and run away with us for the summer,” Jemma said, knowing it would be a dream.

There was a polite chuckle at the other end.

“God, I wish I could,” he said. But he was thinking maybe he could swing a weekend. Daisy would be on his case otherwise.

He could hear Jemma sigh with defeat on the other end. He wanted to apologize, but he knew being home wasn’t the worse thing he had done. In fact, he was up to something much more shameful. He was on his way to her house at the very moment…

Fitz had met this woman in the street on a scorching hot day. She had looked like a wreck, said her boyfriend had hurt her and she was looking for a safe space. Fitz invited her into his temporary apartment. One thing led to another, and Fitz was filled with so much shame. He couldn’t pinpoint why he continued to let this affair continue, he figured it was due to convenience. He did not love this woman, Ada, but enjoyed the loneliness she lifted from his life. Fitz wasn’t getting any sleep, the thoughts he had about his infidelity kept him up at night. He rang the doorbell to the woman’s apartment, and bowed his head, running a hand through his hair. His fingers thumbed an envelope he had in his hand. He avoided looking at his face in the reflection of her door, knowing what he would see would disgust him.

Daisy arrived a few days after the call and helped Jemma pack the car up. They drove the few hours upstate to the lake house they owned and went to every summer. It felt odd to be there without Fitz, but Jemma was getting used to him not being around. Elena still seemed okay with the arrangement, she missed her father, and Fitz never missed his daily video chat with his daughter, where he would read her a bedtime story before bed. Elena always begged him to read ad reread Curious George Discovers the Sun. Jemma was certain Fitz would have the whole story memorized by now.

As Elena went off to sleep over at the neighbor’s house, Jemma and Daisy were free to enjoy the day and night without the responsibility of a child. Which meant, Jemma could drink as much as she pleased, and she took the opportunity. They spent most of the day lounging on the lake, laying on the water mat, and drinking a gallon worth of Sangria. Daisy, pleased with the seclusion of the lake house, created little tremors in the water, flexing her powers freely.  
As Jemma became intoxicated her drunk mind began to speak a sober heart, and conversation quickly centered on Fitz’ absence.

“Our phone calls have started to become short. He tells me less and less about the project. He says it’s still going well and that they are almost done with it, but there’s a sound in his voice that tells me otherwise. Maybe he’s been feeling sick? Maybe he isn’t close to the end of the project? I don’t know but he doesn’t sound all right, and that makes me worry because Fitz would work himself to death,” Jemma blabbed.

Daisy, who had been circling a finger in the water making figure eight’s and adding a tremor, listened intently. She remained silent, thinking what to say to her best friend. 

“Oh, and a few days ago and called and said not to freak out as he had to take a few thousand dollars out our bank account. He said one of his coworkers was in a crunch and he wanted to help him out. I ask him for names in case I know the poor fellow and he shuts his mouth. I don’t know why he is being so distant. I know he is distant, geographically, but he doesn’t need to be that way in our marriage. He’s missing out on so many moments with Elena,” Jemma continued.

Daisy digested the information and carefully calculated her words.

“I know a way to help but you may not like it or feel comfortable doing it, so it’s really up to you,” Daisy said.

“What?” Jemma sat up, causing her body to dip a few inches in the water on the mat. She quickly steadied her cup of wine.

“We could hack into his accounts,” Daisy said flatly, she stopped making tremors in the water.

Jemma looked conflicted. She knew it was wrong to invade his privacy, but wondered if it was really wrong if he wasn’t okay. The information they could find out could give Jemma a way to help him, and maybe he would be able to come home faster.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be doing the hacking, it would be you,” Jemma said, using that as her way to clear her conscience. Daisy lifted her eyebrows and smiled. She stood up on the water mat, and on wobbly legs walked over to the dock. From there she grabbed the pitcher of sangria and motioned for Jemma to come with her back up to the house. Jemma followed in Daisy’s footsteps, and the two women hurriedly rushed back to the house.

Jemma sat across the table from Daisy. She would let Daisy do her work without anxiously standing over her shoulder. Besides, Daisy wouldn’t let her get too close with a glass of sangria to her computer.

Getting in to Fitz’ accounts was a bit difficult. His knowledge in engineering helped him set up tight security. But Daisy was a master and hacked into his email accounts in just a few minutes time.

At the top of the email list was a chain between Jemma and Fitz. Daisy scanned through some of those emails and they were basically little love notes they sent back and forth to each other. Daisy noted that Jemma sent all of hers in the early morning hours, just when Fitz would be waking up, and Fitz sent him around bedtime hours, probably thinking of her before he went to sleep. Daisy nearly threw up in her mouth from how nauseatingly cute their relationship was.

Then she saw an airline receipt and confirmation. She passed over the date but didn’t register it as today’s date as she saw an flagged email that immediately caught her attention.

A few emails down was an email marked with high importance, with the subject line simply a row of dollar signs. Any other email like this, Daisy would know it was a scam or a virus, but she ran it against her computers processes and it came off clean. She clicked into it, and then read.

“Dear Mr. Fitz,

I hope this email finds you are doing well, both physically and fiscally. Fiscally speaking, I see an arrangement in our future. My name is James Reynolds, you may have heard of me from the mouth of one Maria Reynolds. I bet she hasn’t been wearing her wedding ring. 

Now, I know you are a very important man, your work in engineering is all over the top search results on a quick Google search, and it looks like you have a wonderful family as well. So I bet you don’t want to tarnish all of that good reputation. You can go on screwing my wife, and for as long as you like, if you pay up. Otherwise, I’m telling your wife. Bring an envelope of $1500 cash the next time you see her, which according to Maria is tonight. You do that and you keep your precious reputation.

I’m glad we can make this arrangement, Mr. Fitz.

\- James Reynolds”

As Daisy read the email she gasped, and her jaw dropped. Jemma was intrigued to see what she found, but Daisy realized this wasn’t something she should show Jemma. Or was it? This could still be a scam, a lie. The man had put Jemma’s home address, Elena’s name, on the bottom of the email, so maybe not. She weighed the repercussions it could have on Jemma, and her goddaughter Elena. Swallowing on a now dry throat, Daisy flipped to read Fitz’ reply email, hoping it would be a refute and a misunderstanding.

“Dear Mr. Reynolds,

I don’t suppose I have any choice at this point. I’ll give the money to Maria, but I’m done seeing her.

\- Leo Fitz”

Fitz had confessed, confirming Daisy’s nightmare. The email was dated just a few days ago. Jemma got up from her seat and began to walk over to Daisy. She didn’t have time to think.

When Maria opened the door, she smiled and quickly let Fitz in. He followed her to the living room. She went to take off Fitz’ shirt, to which he swatted her hand away.

“What gives?” she asked confused.

“How could you?” Fitz growled.

What are you talking about?” her voice tried to convey disbelief.

“Did you know about the email?” Fitz jeered, anger rising.

“I didn’t know any better!” she exclaimed, her voice becoming despondent. “Just give him whatever he wants and you can have me,” she continued.

Fitz threw the envelope on the floor, a few bills slipping out. 

“I don’t want you,” he said firmly. He quickly walked back towards the door, and in a fury stormed out. Now he had being extorted added to his shame. As he walked back to his apartment, just a few blocks away, he started to calculate a trip to visit home. 

Jemma reached the computer before Daisy could wipe the screen clear. And as she tried to fend Jemma off, her attempts to swat her away only fueled Jemma’s nervous curiosity. Jemma outsmarted Daisy, and slid her chair away from the monitor.

Daisy watched from the side as Jemma’s eyes scanned over the email. Jemma’s face deflated, and when Daisy presumed she reached the end, in a very cold and monotonous voice, Jemma made a request in the form of a statement.

“Daisy, I would like to be alone for the day.”

Daisy stood up from the chair, not sure what to do or say at first. She went to put a hand on Jemma’s shoulder, but Jemma shifted harshly. Daisy recoiled her hand.

“I… I will go over the neighbors and see how Elena is doing,” Daisy said.

“Thank you,” Jemma replied, in the same chilling monotonous tone. It made Jemma sound like she was holding in anger and rage.  
Daisy exited the kitchen, and ran to the guest bedroom where she was staying to change clothes and head over. She didn’t know what Jemma was going to do, but trusted that she could leave Jemma alone. When Daisy entered the kitchen again, to get to the door, she saw that Jemma was pouring herself another glass and looking out the window to the lake. Daisy made a note to check on her in a few hours.

After Daisy left, Daisy lowered all the blinds in the kitchen and dining room area. She shut all the lights off. She closed Daisy’s laptop and placed it in the center of the table, the words seared into her mind. Jemma sat down at the table, in the darkness, and stared straight, occasionally sipping at her wine. When she finished the first glass, she continued, and the cycle went like this for three more glasses.

The door opening interrupted her. Her first thought was to give Daisy a piece of her mind for not letting her be alone to figure things out. But from the footsteps, and the sounds of a bag being set down, she could tell it wasn’t Daisy. The light in that area was turned on, and she could hear lightly disgruntled huffing. Huffing, she knew was all too Fitz. She remained concrete. 

She heard him gently close the door, still not having any idea she was only in the kitchen. If she turned her head she would be able to see him. Fitz shuffled further in, he said something to himself that the girls were probably down by the lake. First he climbed the stairs to put his bags in their bedroom. He came down the steps a few minutes later, humming cheerfully, and began to cross the dining room, where Jemma was sitting, to get to the side door that led down to the lake.

Just as Fitz got to the door he noticed Jemma’s reflection, it gave him a fright as he hadn’t expected her to be there and so quiet.

“Wow, Jemma you scared me, what are you doing up here all by yourself… and in the dark?” he sounded so oblivious to Jemma.

She didn’t speak, but continue to stare off to nothing in the distance.

“Hey, hey, no warm reception, huh?” Fitz turned from the door and walked up to the table. Jemma ignored him. He noticed her eyes shined in the darkness. There was something wrong, he pulled out the chair next to her to sit.

“Are you okay, Jemma? Where’s Elena?” he said softly, seeing as she was upset over something.

Jemma slowly turned her head to look at him. Her fingers readjusted on the stem of her wine glass.

“James and Maria Reynolds say hello,” she said coldly.

The color in Fitz’ face drained. His world began to crash. She knew. How did she know? He looked on the table, to see if there was a paper or something sent from James. Nothing of the sort, except for Daisy’s laptop… Daisy’s laptop.

“I…I…” he began to stammer, but there wasn’t nothing he could say.

Jemma got up from the table, grabbing the half finished pitcher of wine. 

“Until I figure out how to deal with this, you will be sleeping in the office. If we are in the same room with Elena, I will act as if nothing is wrong as not to alarm her. You don’t have anything to say to me,” Jemma spoke with a menacing authority in her voice. She moved nearly silently up the same set of stairs he had just come down from. He could hear her move his bags out of the room, and then the door slam. He set his hands on the sides of his head. He had lost and he was very well going to loose everything all because of his stupidity. He wondered how he could have failed his family on such a terrible level. He wondered if there was anything he could do to make it up to Jemma, how he could become a better man, a better husband, and a better father.

It was his turn to sit in the darkness and let seep in the repercussions of his actions.


	21. Prompt Seventeen: So much Fluff!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff! But not in the way you're thinking probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Not everything I write is a downer!

Prompt Seventeen: So much Fluff

The 0-8-4 call came in with special instructions that Fitz and Simmons should be on it as their scientific knowledge would be needed. Putting together their field kits, Fitz and Simmons trudged off to the location and expected to either find an alien artifact or an enemy weapon, or even an Inhuman. Working for SHIELD, they knew to always expect the unexpected. 

There weren’t too many field agents on this mission, which meant there wasn’t a high threat level attached to it. Good, they both thought, they were a bit tired of dangerous environments.

They arrived to the warehouse, where the call had come from. Before they got to the room they heard peculiar sounds, and Simmons and Fitz looked at each other. They were dealing with something alive. They proceeded with caution into the room.

They looked around and saw nothing, it was an empty room. Fitz examined the walls, pressing an ear to them, until he came upon one where the sounds echoed through. 

“In here,” he said, grabbing the mice hole device from his field kit.

He cut out a square hole, and peeked his head.

“Oh my gosh, Jemma, they called us for this…” he said, his voice muffled.

Jemma stood behind him curiously, anxious to see what was all the fuss.

“Open your hands and close your eyes,” Fitz instructed. Jemma, trusting him, did as she was told, crouching beside him. She felt something small, fluffy, and squirming be placed in her outturned hands.

“Open,” Fitz said.

Jemma first saw Fitz, beaming at her, and holding in his hand a small but active kitten. In Jemma’s hands was a puppy.

“There’s a basket of puppies and kittens behind the wall,” Fitz said, with a laugh.

Jemma held the puppy up to her face and promptly melted. She muzzled her cheek against the puppies soft fur and chuckled. 

“I hope these aren’t alien puppies and kittens,” she joked.

Fitz placed the precocious kitten down and reached back into the wall to pull the basket out, brimming with a few more kittens and puppies. He checked once more to make sure no other animals were wedged in between the crevice. 

There were four kittens and four puppies. 

“How’d they even get there?” Jemma wondered. It was a good question to ask. The wall looked like it hadn’t been purposely opened before. So how did a basket, with several young and healthy animals get there. Jemma laid down on the floor and grabbed a few more of the baby animals to let crawl over her. One of the puppies tugged gently at her hair while a kitten thought her forehead was a good place to nap. It was heaven.

Fitz got to work, interested in finding out the answer. He did a few thermal scans and checked to see if there was residue of any kind. One of his readers came back with some very interesting data.

“It looks like someone used a portal,” he said, incredulously not belieiving it.

“It could make sense,” Jemma was pretending to bench press a kitten and puppy in both her hands.

“I’ll call Coulson and tell him the 0-8-4 has been secured,” she added, placing the kitten down on her chest and reaching into her pocket to take her phone out.

She dialed Coulson to report back.

“Hello Sir. Yes we’ve investigated the 0-8-4. You won’t believe what we found. No, nothing like that. It’s pretty much cleared to come back to the base, we don’t need a contamination unit. We will be heading back shortly. We found a basket of puppies and kittens wedged in between a wall, the weirdest thing. Yes they’re alive and they are so adorable, Sir. Fitz ran a few tests, he thinks a portal was used to plop them there since it’s unnatural. We will stop by and pick up some food, yes,” Jemma said on the phone, answering Coulson’s multitude of questions and pausing every so often when one of the animals would get too close to her mouth.

Jemma and Fitz loaded the animals back into the basket, except for a kitten that had fallen asleep in the crook of Jemma’s arm. She carried it with her and rode with it all the way back to base.

Word had spread quick that Simmons and Fitz had found a basket of baby animals, and Daisy, Bobbi, and Hunter, although he wouldn’t admit he was there for the animals (he claimed he was there because Bobbi was), each delighted themselves with on of the animals.

They all ventured to the recreational room, and fed the famished animals while waiting for Coulson. When Coulson did walk in, it was like looking at kids at Christmas. His agents were rolling on the floor playing the animals.

“Coulson, you have to let us keep at least one of each,” was the first thing out of Daisy’s mouth when she noticed Coulson standing at the door.

“Yes, this one could be a guard dog, and… the base totally has a mouse problem,” Fitz said, playing tug of war with a puppy.

 

“We’re one of the most technologically advanced militaristic spy agencies in the world, we don’t need a guard dog or a mouse catching cat, the Playground doesn’t have a mice problem,” Coulson said putting a damper on their delight.

“But, Sir, it totally does,” Jemma said, knowing her argument was weak with no actual evidence to support it.

Coulson rubbed his forehead. These were his agents not his children, he couldn’t give in, no, he couldn’t, he really couldn’t…

May appeared at his side and soaked in the site. A puppy gingerly ran over to her feet to which she picked it up. 

“Coulson, you don’t really think you could say no, do you?” she said, stuffing the puppy in his face.

Coulson could not fight the urge. He took the puppy out of May’s hands and joined his agents.

“Okay, we can do this,” he said, giving up.

For the next hour the agents fought, not on a battleground, but on which two animals to keep and what they would name them. Ultimately, Mack’s choice for guard puppy won as long as he could be named Cap, and Jemma’s choice out of the kittens was picked. May’s name won out and was named, fitting the theme, Peggy. And for once, a SHIELD mission had went so right, everyone was happy.


End file.
